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ameliora-j · 3 years ago

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happier than ever // hp x reader

words: 1.7k

warnings: breakup, talk of the war, angsty asf, i think that’s all but as always lmk loves! :)

a/n: based on happier than ever by billie eilish,, italics are flashback/song lyrics

a/n ii: i do NOT like nor do i promote billie eilish in any way at all. but the song is trending on tiktok and i thought it’d be a good fic idea

it was the biggest argument the two of you had ever had. the one that resulted in the end of your relationship. you regretted every single second of it. you knew that he was trying. that he just wanted to help. he was trying to make a better world for himself. for everyone. for you. for both of you. so you could have the future you always talked about.

but lately he wasn’t around. he had a lot of responsibilities, you understood that. but you were his girlfriend. and lately he wasn’t being much of a boyfriend. you tried to push it away when he called rain checks on your dates. or when he was late because it “slipped his mind.” or when, sometimes… he didn’t even show at all.

it was your final straw when he showed up three hours late for your anniversary dinner. it wasn’t even your true anniversary… that was two weeks ago. but he had missed that because he was at hagrid’s hut with ron and hermione. you pushed it off with a shrug and a small smile. no more than a “it’s okay harry, i promise. i know you have a lot on your plate right now,” as you kissed his cheek and retreated to your dorm for the night.

but that night… that night you just had so much pent up anger. you were sick of it, truthfully. and you flipped out. “why’re you so dressed up, love?” the question would usually have made your heart sink. but by now you were used to it. now you just scoffed. you were numb to the hurt of him forgetting.

“had an anniversary dinner with my boyfriend. but it seems like he forgot… again,” you spoke plainly.

“darling i’m so sorry you have to believe me,” he implored.

“it’s fine harry. really,” you shrugged as you blinked back your angry tears.

“we can… we can reschedule. tomorrow i promise,” he bit his lip hopefully.

“no. it’s fine,” you shrugged.

“okay. if tomorrow doesn’t work, we can try next week maybe?” he tried again. you shook your head again. “okay well if not next week then i’m not sure. i’ve got army meetings and ron, mione, and i have plans with hagrid. plus we’ve got the end of years coming up so i have to study. when do you want to reschedule for?”

“i don’t harry,” you answered, finally letting the dam break. two tears fell slowly down your cheeks. “i don’t want to reschedule. or try a different day because there won’t be one. it’ll just be the same thing all over again. you’ll be late. if you even care to remember that we have a date at all,” you spat bitterly.

“yn, i’m trying,” harry quickly became defensive at the venom spitting from your tongue. “i’m doing my best really, can’t you see that? i’m trying to save the world here, you’re not making it easy by being so clingy,” he spat ruthlessly.

“then let me make it easier on you, harry. you never have to worry about me again,” you offered a sad smile as you turned and began to walk away.

“you’re breaking up with me?” the sea-eyed boy was dumbfounded.

“yeah. i’m making saving the world easier on you. you won’t have to worry about a clingy girlfriend anymore. go do what you need to do and save the world harry,” you told him. “too bad you couldn’t save your relationship as well,” you sniffled as you retreated to your dorm.

it hurt you to leave harry. but you both needed it. two years of dating and an even longer relationship… and it just all went to shit. it exploded right before your eyes.

you spent the following weeks buried under your covers. sobbing your little heart out, when you weren’t in class. you knew what would come of breaking up with hogwarts’ golden boy and the savior of the world. the dirty looks. the whispers. however, what you didn’t expect… was for the whole wizarding world to hear about it.

what you didn’t expect was for the front page of the daily prophet to read in big, bold lettering: “THE BOY WHO LIVED: HEARTBROKEN.” you read through the article by rita skeeter and you were fuming. she had called you “cold” and “heartless.” and much, much nastier words that you couldn’t even repeat, all of which were completely untrue.

harry had made you out to be the bad guy, of course. the golden boy could never do anything wrong. you scoffed as you picked up the paper and stormed your way to the great hall. all conversation at the gryffindor had died down as their eyes locked on you, storming over to harry. “you LIAR!” you screamed as you roughly shoved his chest, throwing the paper down in front of him.

he raised an eyebrow as he looked down at the article. “i see no lies here,” he shrugged, causing ron, ginny, and hermione to stifle a laugh. you rolled your eyes at this. “you’re nothing but a cold. heartless. bitch,” he spat ruthlessly.

“as if! harry that’s you! you’re cold and you’re heartless! you don’t care about anyone but yourself, oh chosen one,” you spit right back.

“cold and heartless when i’m saving the world?” he raised an eyebrow as he scoffed.

“please cut your little bullshit ‘i the chosen one am saving the world’ ploy. it’s nothing but bullshit! neville could save the world just as well as you can,” you shook your head. “you’re nothing without your title harry. absolutely nothing,” you growled. you saw red. nothing but red. you were positively pissed. anger was the only thought processing in your brain. “you’re an entitled brat harry. who never sees himself in the wrong even when you break hearts.”

“then i guess we’re one in the same, aren’t we, yn?” he snarked.

“oh please. you wish harry. i don’t relate to you. i could never relate to you. cus i would’ve never treated me as shitty as you did,” you shook your head as you spoke. crossing your arms defensively as you prepared to tell the chosen one all about himself.

“i treated you so shitty and yet, i still work my ass off to continue to save your life along with everyone else on the planet. right,” he scoffed.

“cut your bullshit harry. stop with the savior of the world shit. you scared me half to death with all of the dangerous shit you did. you stick your neck out and swim oceans for people who wouldn’t even step over a fucking puddle for you! you think these people care about you? they don’t! you’re a pawn in their little war. that’s all you’ll ever be!” you scoffed again. “i don’t even know why i’m wasting my breath. you only ever listen to your fucking ‘friends’ anyway,” you put air quotes around the word as you forced yourself to keep your tears at bay.

“so what if i’m a pawn! i’m helping! you’ve had everything handed to you on a silver fucking platter you’re entire life! you’d never know what this life feels like!” he shouted back.

“that’s your problem harry! you never see anyone’s problems but your own! you weren’t even aware of the fact that you made me miserable! for weeks you made me miserable. i couldn’t even tell if i still had a boyfriend or not!” you harshly rubbed your nose on the sleeve of your robe. “i wish it wasn’t true, but now that i’m away from you, i’m somehow happier. at least i know you don’t love me anymore instead of having to wonder every night,” you shook your head.

“we’re done yn! you made that very clear when you left me after forgetting one date! why do you care so much!” he yelled.

“because it wasn’t one date harry it was multiple! hogwarts was my home harry! and you made me hate this school!” you shouted.

“so what?! we’re over yn, i’m moving on and handling it in my own way! you should too!” his face was red and the vein in his neck was protruding. all eyes in the great hall—including those of the professors’—were on the two of you.

“no! cus i don’t talk shit about you all over the daily prophet or in school for that matter! i’ve never said anything bad about you!” you yelled at him.

“well why not? apparently you have every right to since i was such a horrible boyfriend for trying to make a better world for the two of us to have a future in,” he scoffed.

you rolled your eyes and decided upon not wasting your breath at his use of that defense yet again. “cause that shit’s embarrassing harry! you were my everything and all you ever did was make me fucking sad!” you rubbed at your nose again, nearly positive that the tip of it was now rubbed raw.

“i’m sorry that you feel like i was so terrible to you. i’m sorry that i couldn’t save our relationship like i saved the world like you said,” he shook his head.

“oh don’t try to make me feel bad harry! i have a whole laundry list of good and bad things about you. but at some point the good stopped outweighing the bad,” by now the inevitable had happened and tears had begun to spill slowly over your lash line.

“really? cus it sounds like you have nothing but bad things to say,” he snarked with a small scoff.

“i mean i could list all the times you showed up on time, but it’d be empty because you never did. you ruined everything good in my life, harry. and you always say you’re so misunderstood but you’re not! you’re just a heartless, selfish, asshole!” you shoved his chest roughly. “just fucking leave me alone! and keep my name out of your mouth,” you rolled your waterlogged eyes as you walked away.

once you were in the safety of your dorm, you let it all out. you slid slowly down the closed door and pulled your knees to your chest, releasing all the sobs you held in during your screaming match. your heart broke for the second time in less than a month. you choked over sobs as your stomach twisted in pained knots, matching the feeling of your heart thumping behind your ribcage.

your everything was gone. but somehow… you were happier than ever without him.

#harry potter x reader #marauders x reader #harry potter x y/n #harry potter x you #harry potter angst #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #angst #hp fandom #hp #hp angst #hp x reader #hp x you #hp x y/n

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hawkinsindiana · 4 years ago

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this changes things

ALMOST PARADISE: PART THREE - CHAPTER FOUR OF ELEVEN (!!)

pairing: steve harrington x henderson!reader

word count: 2.3k

a/n: we’re back to eleven chapters baby!!!! this one ended up being longer than i thought. i know i usually post on friday nights, but i couldn’t help but give you all a lil valentine’s day treat. pls enjoy!!!!

masterlist

Steve’s nervous.

It’s down to the wire; there's only a few short weeks left of his final high school semester. Four out of five college applications have been rejected. Each one received has fed the anxiety more and more.

Every day that passes without a lick of news from the remaining university has him reconsidering everything. His education. His career. His future.

The only thing Steve knows about his future is that he wants you in it, in whichever form that might be. You’re the constant. Without you, he’s afraid he’d eventually go back to being that person he was before. You make him want to be better. Trying to be worthy of you gives Steve purpose.

He imagined that getting a college education would help keep him on that path. It seems farther away with each rejection letter he receives.

Steve hasn’t told you that he hasn’t gotten into any so far. He’s afraid of disappointing you, especially after everything you’ve done for him.

The spring of ‘85 has been particularly unforgiving. It’s been storming all week - the air still hangs with that familiar smell of rain soaked concrete. You read that the Hawkins Post reported a record amount of rainfall; the local stream overflowed and flooded a few basements.

The mail is still damp when Steve retrieves it after practice. It sticks to his fingers as he shuffles through each envelope, drying his sneakers on the welcome mat.

And then his eyes linger on one addressed to him; Steve nearly drops his backpack when he sees who sent it.

Haphazardly, he tosses the rest of the mail onto the kitchen counter as he contemplates whether to even open the damn thing. Steve’s pretty sure he knows the answer. Is it an answer he wants?

Whatever the words inside this parcel read, it changes Steve’s life forever. His future is planned from the moment he breaks the seal - there would be no going back. Either he stays here in Hawkins, trapped by an education he neglected for far too long, or he gets to take a step to distance himself from this shitty town and prove his worth.

Steve isn’t a fan of the former option.

He wishes you were here to read it for him. He’d rather you tell him the news; hearing it come from your lips would make it easier.

By the time Steve decides to open it, a few minutes have passed. Why does this feel like the scariest thing he’s ever done?

Due to the water, some of the ink bled through the paper; pieces of the letter are illegible. But at the top, a familiar phrase answers his question: Unfortunately, we regret to inform you-

Steve curses, angrily throwing the envelope and its contents into the trash. He refuses to read anymore.

He has no one to blame but himself. Maybe that’s why he’s so angry. There were multiple opportunities for him to change course and put effort into his schoolwork. By the time he finally tried, it was too late.

Thunder booms in the distance once Steve parks his car beside your mother’s. He doesn’t remember deciding to come here; the only thing he can recall is grabbing the keys, without a destination in mind. His heart brought him to your warmth.

As Steve gets out of the car, he wonders if this was maybe a bad idea. It isn’t very often that he feels afraid to face you - he’s scared of your reaction, and the outcome that could follow.

He knew that he could love you, that he could fall just as hard as you did for him. But admitting it to himself, and then you - he doesn’t know if he has the strength to do it again. That phrase has left a sour taste in his mouth, one that Steve hopes he can wash away. Because you deserve to hear it too.

Maybe he’s closer to saying it than he thought, perhaps that’s why he’s so scared to tell you. Maybe-

“What the hell are you doin’ here?” Dustin’s voice startles Steve, who turns to see the boy walking his bike up the driveway. Steve fumbles his response, head spinning with thoughts about you, “I don’t, uh-”

Dustin interrupts him, not noticing the nerves Steve displays, “Hey, you should come in! It’s mac ‘n cheese night.”

Steve hangs his head in defeat, knowing that he’s going to follow your brother inside. He can’t say no to this kid.

Dustin hangs up his raincoat once the pair of them enter the house; the bell on Tews’ collar jingles as they run to greet the boys. The kitten weaves between Steve’s legs before he kneels down to give them a few pets.

“That you, Dusty?” Your mother calls from within; clattering silverware echoes from the kitchen. Steve chuckles at the nickname. Dustin punches him in the bicep.

He kicks off his shoes as he replies, “Hey Mom! Get out another bowl - look who I found loitering around.”

Steve scoffs, shoving Dustin as they walk forward through the threshold into the living room. Your mom moves to welcome them; her warm smile widens when she sees Steve by her son’s side, “Well look who it is! Steve, sweetheart, how are you?”

He’s baffled by her every time he shares a meal with your family. Her kind soul is infectious, and drastically different from the parents he was raised by. Steve tries not to think about the fact her beloved pet is secretly buried out back - he’s reminded of it whenever he sees her.

“I’m good, Mrs. Henderson. How are you?” Steve answers, returning her grin. She envelops him in a quick hug, “How many times am I going to have to tell you? Just call me Claudia, hon.”

Steve laughs along with her as he follows her to the kitchen, “I think you’ll need to remind me one more time.”

And then his eyes meet yours from across the room. They smile nearly as much as your lips at the sight of him; your heart flutters at this unexpected surprise.

When you catch onto the sadness in his expression, the corners of your mouth drop. It’s obvious to you that something’s wrong. Steve doesn’t usually stop by without an invitation; something must’ve happened.

Throughout dinner, you take mental notes on his deflated behavior. It’s subtle enough to fool your family, but you know him better. With each minute that passes, the more anxious you become to hear the cause. So when he volunteers to help you with the dishes, as he always does, you know it’s only a matter of time.

“How was practice?” You ask before drying off a cup. Steve takes it from your hand as he replies, “Uh, it was good. Although it’s annoying that we’re still practicing even though the season’s over.”

You hum in agreement as he places the glass on the shelf. Steve glances back at you briefly, “What about you? What’d you get up to?”

A beat passes - you’re looking for the words to describe your afternoon. Maybe not the words, but the courage. It’s only when he turns around, brow creased, do you answer him.

“I studied at Nancy’s,” You say. Steve’s eyes widen in surprise, “Oh yeah? How’d that go?”

You nod your head, focusing your gaze onto the floor, “It was nice, actually. It wasn’t as awkward as I thought it would be.”

“Now when you say studying…” He trails off for a moment as he thinks, “You two didn’t… exchange notes about me or anything, did you?”

Steve’s growing smirk makes you laugh; you hit him playfully with the towel, “No! And I haven’t told her, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

A part of him can’t help but be relieved. There’s no limit to what you two could chat about.

“We just ended up talking about college most of the time,” You add, “She wanted to know some tips since she’ll be applying soon.”

Steve grabs a plate to dry; in order to try and quell his anxiety, he has to do something productive. But your mind recognizes it as a distraction - you’re no stranger to coping mechanisms.

“Have you figured out where you’re gonna go yet?” He questions, praying your answer isn’t far; lightning flashes outside the kitchen window, followed closely by the low rumble of thunder.

You sigh as you lean back against the counter, “I’m not sure. Nancy was helping me talk through my options earlier, but it’s such a big decision to make. I wanna make sure it’s the right fit.”

Steve nods slightly, forehead creasing as he wipes his hands on the towel. And by the way he clenches his jaw at your reply, you know that this is the source of contention.

You nudge his leg with your foot, “What about you? Get any responses back?”

The breath hitches in Steve’s throat; there’s no way this conversation doesn’t end with his reveal. The longer it takes for him to speak, the more concerned you grow.

“I, uh-“ A sigh passes his lips as he grips the counter, keeping his focus away from you. He doesn’t want to witness your reaction.

“I didn’t get in,” Steve mutters. He exhales, shaking his head in disbelief; until now, it almost didn’t seem real. It took admitting it to you for his brain to accept it.

You shift on your feet, unsure of what to say. Over the past few weeks, you and Steve had been discussing how your relationship would persist once you both had made your college commitments. This wasn’t an outcome either of you prepared for.

“Holy shit, Steve. I’m sorry…” You whisper. Steve pushes his face into his hands; his voice is muffled from behind his palms, “Yeah, yeah… holy shit.”

You don’t hesitate any more to comfort him. Steve straightens as you place your hands on his arms; he melts into your touch, unable to prevent you from turning his body to face yours.

“Hey, it’ll be fine,” You reassure him, “College isn’t the only option, you know. There are other things you could do.”

The expression on Steve’s face breaks your heart. You’d do anything to wipe it away and brighten his mood. But Steve just sighs again, appreciating your efforts to help him, but nothing seems to be working.

“How’d your parents react?” You ask. The only thing keeping Steve grounded to this moment is the firm grip you have on his shoulders; he thinks he’d float away without it.

He scoffs a bit; the sound breaks the deafening silence that formed as he thought of a response. His eyes are still focused downwards as he finally answers you, “They don’t know yet. I just got the last letter today. I couldn’t think of going anywhere else.”

When your fingers brush against his cheek, Steve instinctively moves his hands to rest on your waist, “I’m sorry, I just-”

Steve finally lifts his head. Your eyes are wide, pupils filled to the brim with nothing but your fondness for him. All of a sudden, he’s confused why he was so scared to tell you. He realizes that he never should’ve doubted you.

“I was scared this would change things. Or that you’d be disappointed in me or some shit.”

Your brow furrows as you laugh softly - baffled by his words, “What could ever make you think that I’d be disappointed in you?”

A flash of previous memories answers your own question. You decide not to pull on that thread anymore.

“This changes things,” You mutter. Your eyeline drops as you pause, choosing your words carefully before continuing, “But it doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

Finally, Steve feels a bit of relief. The sincerity in your voice calms the fear, and a deep exhale allows him to let it go. Your compassion and understanding permits him to begin thinking clearly again. He knew there was a reason he came here.

You’re right though. This does change how you both navigate the future. But with you here to support him, Steve figures he’ll be just fine.

“I mean…” The corner of your mouth curls up at the thought that pops into your head, “The only way my opinion of you changes is if you killed my brother or something like that.”

Steve chuckles slightly, “But Mike’s still fair game?”

“Oh yeah, go ahead,” You quip, “He’s had it comin’ for a while.”

Even though your voices are hushed, the joke still makes you crack a pair of brilliant smiles; it almost makes Steve forget about his future for a moment. Standing here in your arms, Steve can’t help but realize how safe he feels.

And then you sigh, reaching up to brush back a lock of his brunette hair - the sensation of your touch fills Steve with something new, something different. A direct contrast to the violent storm brewing outside, this is soft, warm, and golden. Like daylight.

Your eyes meet again. Honestly, he’s not sure he ever wants to look at anything else.

Your hand lands on his chest, “This doesn’t make me love you any less.”

Steve throws caution to the wind - he kisses you. And already, you can tell that this is one you’ll remember. His lips are soft against yours, but without sacrificing an ounce of passion. You almost forget that someone could walk in and expose your relationship; when Steve finally pulls away, it doesn’t matter anyways.

As if you weren’t left breathless enough from his kiss, the words he mutters afterwards could’ve done it themselves.

With one of his trademark smirks plastered across his face, Steve moves to hold your head between his palms, “Fuck, I love you.”

You kiss him again so quickly that you both didn’t have enough time to wipe the twinkling grins from your lips. Your noses are squished against each other, but neither of you cares enough. Your shared love dulls the pain.

Steve smiles into the kiss even further. This is what it’s supposed to feel like.

— taglist: @djjarin / @hannarudick / @crazycookiecrumbles / @hellisateenageheather / @alewifex / @l0ve-0f-my-life / @naomiiiiiiiiiii04 / @daddystevee / @thecaptainsgingersnap / @let-the-imaginationflow / @asianravenpuff / @im-a-stranger-thing / @mikariell95 / @pilunb / @harringtherin / @royalestrellas / @ultrunning / @buggs177 / @poutfull / @yoheyyosup / @duchessdaisybat / @janieavalos / @sassisaluxury / @beththebubbly / @i-bitch-you-bitch / @captainstilinskis / @juliebean247 / @im-nada / @whatabeautifulsurrender / @rexorangecouny / @pass-me-jeez-it / @ahoy-scoops-troop / @halefirewarrior / @jointhehunt67 / @peanutem / @ketchuplukehemmo / @m-a-r-i-n-t-p / @fangirl485 / @emmegirl827 / @lookalivesunshine-x / @elite4cekalyma / @marjoherbo / @just-my-fandom / @idumpyourgrass / @alafolieee / @mochminnie / @phantomalchemist / @dustyblueboo / @alonewolfsblog / @ggclarissa / @hufflepuffing-all-day-long / @bippityboppitybabe / @readinthegarden12 / @bakugouishusbando / @stxtch72 / @random-girl-army / @wisdaemon / @thatawkwardlittlefangirl

if you want be added to the taglist, just lemme know!

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington imagine #st fic #st imagine #steve harrington x you #my writing #almost paradise

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iphoenixrising · 3 years ago

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DickTim Week 2021: Day 5 Winged!Talon Tim au

So. another dual prompt and I really regret nothing about this one tbh. I took tomorrow’s Talon and today’s Wings and made a Winged!Talon!Tim fic. Of course, I talked to the wonderful babes on Capes & Coffee about a what if combination and this just, whew. Careful, it might break your heart a little, but damn if it isn’t an interesting idea.

Not beta read, so don't be a hater :D

Previous Talon!Tim universe posts: The initial idea, Babe and I talking it out, Talon Training Ask, Ra’s vs the Court, Talon and Ra’s, Talon and Ra’s take 2, Talon and Shiva short.

Watching B take on the new and improved Talon is really the entertainment of the year.

Once upon a time it had taken all of them plus more to take down as much of the Court of Owls as humanly possible. Of course, like rats, the Bats knew there would be no way to get the entire Court or all the Talons, not when the upper echelons of Gotham had spent the better part of 200 years creating, storing, training, and obtaining more.

Politicians were investigated, corrupt cops removed, and criminals burrowed underground once word of what the capes did to save the day got passed around.

For the first time in years, crime in Gotham was at an all time low.

But, as the coin flip dictates, nothing good lasts forever. Trouble is always brewing below the surface to eventually rise to the top and try to take over.

Case in point:

The Bats of Gotham have come up against a new threat wearing the signature Talon armor, and the call goes out to all available capes for help taking on the undead mercenary before another crime family ends up in the Obituaries rather than Blackgate.

The fact the Court is still up and running after the Batfamily took them down in a fiery blaze that ended with all their Talons gone, Sensei exposed, and most the ruling families imprisoned or poisoned by Lincoln March, is like a kick to the abdomen after they closed that particular book. Worse, with a new Talon soldier is sighted running around Gotham, another circus kid has been kidnapped and turned into the right hand of the Court of Owls. Dick, with his absolute survivors guilt, is the one to make going after the Talon and whoever is still behind the scenes a top priority.

Which is how they find themselves in the middle of Knight’s Stadium facing down a Talon that is too short to be March. Red Hood, Nightwing, Robin, Batgirl, and Black Bat pretty much got their asses handed to them in the first twelve minutes. Pretty hard to understand until you take into account the new and improved Talon facing them now is terrifying in a completely different way than most undead assassins are.

He knows them.

He knows them in ways that lets him fight fast and furious with vicious accuracy, striking at weaknesses few of the vigilantes of Gotham realized they even had.

He isn't as big as Lincoln or even Cobb, not nearly as old. He hasn't been kept in cryostasis waiting for the next generation to need his skills. He doesn't have creaks in his joints from being put on deep freeze too many times.

This one is silent and efficient, obviously trained in multiple types of martial arts, is highly proficient with or without the standard Talon knives, is a master tactician, counters the majority of their moves with alarming consistency��

and the fucking Talon has wings.

Honest-to-God wings.

Everyone had assumed the metal monstrosities on his back were weapons of some kind, but the glint of steel in the streetlight flash a warning before the lumps moved in an arch, extending far out past his shoulder blades, slicing into Red Hood’s body suit with a razor-sharp edge, shredding the armor like paper.

It’s not enough he’s got weapons obviously made specifically for his skill set, it’s not enough he’s an assassin and doesn’t hold to the same standards of non-lethal combat, it’s not enough that he can use his wings to fly or to fight like he’s using another limb to kick the shit out of them, and it’s not enough that he effortlessly counters so many of their attacks that he has to have some kind of inside information on all of them and their fighting styles.

The knives are definitely a thing when the Talon can throw them hard enough to penetrate parts of their suits in between armored plating, which further drives the theory that this is a person they’ve dealt with before. Intimately. Few people in the world know how their suits are made. Even more, few people know particulars enough when their suits are constantly reconstructed.

The only thing on their side that tipped the scales in their favor–

–the Batman.

The wings threw him off his game, obviously, but not enough to stop B from holding his own with swift and merciless force.

It's like watching a dance of fast and furious fists, blades in Talon's hands glinting deadly in the night, finding B's suit over and over and over until he's made it to blood and bone. He takes every hit the Batman can dish out, head snapping back, left, and right with the volley of jaw-breaking blows and bone-shattering kicks.

None of it gives the Talon pause. When a move makes him drop a blade, another is already in hand, cutting into their body suits, wings flipping out to defend or distract, sweeping moves and well coordinated attacks.

The unnatural appendages are like another arm, another leg, an extension working on the same central nervous system, regardless as to how the Court managed to make it happen.

A jump kick off a trash can is a lucky shot as a wing catches B in the ribs hard enough to knock him into the wall of Mike's Famous Hotdogs. The only thing saving the Dark Knight from a concussion or permanent brain damage is the plating in his cowl.

It gives the Talon enough time to make a final bid for a battered Nightwing, Red Hood, and Robin struggling to their feet again, eyes for their fallen mentor.

Before he can lunge forward to start the attack yet again, the Talon just stops, pauses like he’s stuck or something, and in the span of a breath, both wings extend fully, flap powerfully once to propel him up into the Gotham night.

O tries her best to track his flight through the city, but no one’s arms are working well enough to toss a tracker on him.

She loses him over Cape Carmine, slams her palms against her system in frustration, makes sure she gets as much footage from the confrontation as possible.

After some sleep and a whole lot of bandages and ice packs, the Bat family meets in the Cave to watch the footage, breakdown the Talon’s fighting style, his weaponry, and make theories on his identity.

O helps out with readings she has of electronic pulses she managed to capture coming from the armor over his wings. She thinks she might be able to use it to track him if they can get close enough for her equipment to ping the signal again.

B makes a trip to Arkham since Freeze apparently hasn’t stopped producing the formula used to put Talons in cryostasis.

It’s not until Gotham’s power grid has a massive surge that O and the Bats can pinpoint a possible location, all of them invested in one hell of a fight to get the last rats still scurrying in the underground.

The plan of attack comes together smoothly once they’ve scoped out the location, seen the shady activity, and together, they make one hell of a plan.

And because, you know, Gotham, it is completely normal for the Court of Owl's headquarters to have a skylight.

Natch.

For this one, they've got Batgirl and Black Bat, Red Hood and Robin, Nightwing and B, a real family affair.

O's quiet voice over comms leading them through the maze of traps and empty rooms, abandoned libraries and spooky ball rooms. The laboratory isn't the most horrific they've all ever seen (because the Joker's summer place is literally the stuff of nightmares), but a few of them do gag on the smell alone.

The plan, however, goes horribly awry when the clear sounds of tormented screaming echoes from right under their reinforced bootheels.

Black Bat's fists clench hard, her breathing wheezes out when the tone, the utter agony goes right through her.

A shudder slides up Robin's spine as all of them turn toward the noise.

Without a flicker or a word, the Batman moves, strafing in the shadows toward the sound. He can't assume it's an innocent civilian with something the Court wants, but he's betting on the fact that scream will lead them to whoever is running the show.

The medieval room has bars and reinforced locks, implements hanging on the wall. The cement brick is stained rust colored with old blood, the vestiges of training, and the awful realization they've found another hidden niche in the city that always existed right under their noses is punctuated with the abrupt drop in temperature, with the sudden charge in the air, with the zzzzcrack snapping beyond the door, replaced with a muted buzzing Robin can feel in his back teeth.

B is already on his way to the roof, Batgirl down through the floor vent while Nightwing picks the locks with fast precision, knocking the tumblers around.

Robin and Red Hood stay close to the reinforced door, balancing on the balls of their feet, katana and .45s at the ready.

Black Bat takes the high road, ceiling tiles giving way under her Bat-a-rang. She gives a sharp nod before she's up and gone.

"All right. Ready?" Nightwing stands, cracks his neck, flips his escrimas in both hands, works his shoulders to prepare for the strain of each blow he plans to give.

"Ya betcha ass," Hood murmurs low, a cut figure with both guns at his sides, gloved fingers on the trigger guard.

"Don't disappoint," Robin snarls, "either of you."

"Nice pep talk, squirt," Nightwing snickers.

"Tt, back up your mouth with action."

"Better shuddap, Demon. Golden Boy ain't fuckin' 'round. Neither is the Bat. We get one more chance a' this asshole. We ain't gonna blow it again, ya feel me?"

"Finally, something we agree on, Hood."

"Other than N's shitty mullet?"

Nightwing swiftly glares at them both over his shoulder, unconsciously putting himself front and center of the trio, ready to be the first in once they get the signal.

– which is the sound of the glass raining down from the heavens.

Three booted feet kick the door hard enough to take it off the hinges, lying against the faded stains like a fallen body.

First step in the room is the complete opposite to what they'd all been expecting.

The two Owl masks aren't the usual, but a perversion of the originals, crudely drawn yawning mouths complete with fangs dripping blood.

But.

The boy on his knees, arms in a binder holding the appendages hostage at a painful angle, is dripping the real thing. Rivulets down his chest and where his back is partially visible. Some from the base of the wings going into the back of his shoulder blades where the skin is torn and raw.

The bar gag shoved in his mouth doesn't take away from the splatters on his chin, the bruising on his face, the swollen eye. But it's his wings that makes the Bats falter from the initial rushing attack.

His wings are without the armor, are bound straight up above his restrained body with hooks grotesquely puncturing through the downy softness, desecrating the beauty with blood and gore. The angle makes the pull to his back where the wings are part of him just another agony on top of atrocity.

"Fuck," from the first Owl mask, and a swift move frees the Talon's bound arms, the appendages flopping uselessly to the floor, only his trapped, tortured wings keeping him up on his knees.

The second Owl shoves the first back, "let him take care of them. Let's get out of here!"

The first Owl snarls out something low and foreign, the phrases rolling off his tongue.

The words lock into place, and the Talon's head snaps up, snarling around the gag in his mouth.

When his face is finally, finally visible, the protectors of Gotham are frozen in their tracks.

Familiar violet-blue eyes, too-long blue-black hair, cut jawline and pointed nose. Tiny scar on his right cheek from the time he caught Ra's al Ghul's ring across the face.

"Jesus Fucking Christ," is barely heard through the Red Hood's synths and in no way fully expresses his utter horror at what these dirty motherfuckers have done.

Robin wretches, bile burning the back of his throat once those eyes swing up to the masked parody of the Owls and his bare upper body is visible through the blood and sweat on his chest, when the scars peeking through on his collar bones form a half-visible Y-incision, when the coloring of the bared wings now makes sense (robin's wings, Damian Wayne thinks with his heart beating pitter patter fast, and his stomach in knots, they put robin's wings on him...).

And the hurt, agonized noise coming out of Nightwing's chest is the only noise he can make when those dimmed, dazed eyes swing from the Owls back to the vigilantes frozen in their spots, when there's no spark of joy or fondness or stubbornness he's so used to seeing staring him down.

The errant thought, the first instinct, is the only humane way to deal with this new Talon is to put him down for good wars with the man behind the mask that only wants to reach out, wants to pull the Talon into his body and curve over, to scream at the injustice of it all, to rail at himself for not even suspecting.

Another switch flipped and the hooks release his wings, blood splattering on top the old stains.

"Get them! Don't fuck it up this time or you won't get another chance," the second Owl shoves the Talon's injured shoulder in the direction of the horrified vigilantes.

They don't even bother to take the gag out of his mouth before setting him on his target.

A flap of wings, and the Talon is on his feet again, swaying only slightly. He's in the boots and pants from earlier, the rest of his uniform tossed carelessly behind him by his tormentors. A sweep of his feet and the knives glint in bare palms, a whisper of a sound.

The curved, clawed blade glints in the overhead light when the Talon raises it and cuts the strap of the bar gag in his bloody mouth, turns his head to spit it out without looking away from the vigilantes.

The Batman, grim and stoic in the face of this surprising turn of events, gives the barest nod. From her hiding spot behind the complex machinery, Black Bat takes off after the running Owl members, leaving the rest of the family to deal with their former third Robin.

The wings flinchingly flare out and their former bird hunches over, ready for the attack.

“Wait! Wait, wait, wait,” the Red Hood removes the helmet, leaves the domino underneath. He keeps one hand out in peace, slowly dipping down to put his helmet on the ground. “Is us, Tim. Timmy. Baby Bird. Is us. Yer family. Gotta lookit us, yeah?”

For the first time, the Talon speaks, “who’s Tim?”

And then he lunges.

The fight happens very differently this time.

The former power behind the punches is obviously dulled with the Talon’s identity reveal. He doesn’t hold back, is utterly ruthless with his attacks. He takes out B’s right knee, puts Hood down on the stained floor, knocks Robin into the wall with crushing force, and slams Batgirl’s head off the operating table.

He stands over Nightwing, wicked blade in hand and robin’s wings spread wide. He takes a knee, the sharp edge right above N’s adam’s apple, staring down impassively into the whiteouts.

“Timmy,” N spits blood, grunting when one knee pins his arm down. “Timmy, please. I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry. I love you and I’m sorry they did this to you.”

Those eyes don’t change in the slightest. “You should not have tried to oppose the Owls.”

“We beat them once,” Nightwing gasps, “and you helped us, Baby Bird. You were with us then, don’t you remember.”

“I was nothing before the Court perfected me,” the Talon replies emotionlessly.

“You were perfect before they ever touched you.”

“No,” and the Talon leans down, puts them a breath away. “The only thing you and those others do is put the criminals back in prison, back in Arkham for them to escape again, for them to kill and destroy over and over again. Like this, I can stop them permanently.”

“Oh Timmy,” and behind the whiteouts, Nightwing’s eyes spill over, his vision wavery. “Timmy–”

“Don’t call me that. Stop calling me that.”

“You know me, you know us. You have to remember–”

“Lies. All of it lies!”

Nightwing’s chest stutters, his fist clenching, “it’s not. None of it is. Not even this–”

And he’s fast enough to grab the back of the Talon’s neck, to lean up enough against the blade pressed against his throat, can bring their mouths together, can kiss him like he’s dying and the Talon is the only thing that can save him.

It’s sloppy and awkward because the Talon doesn’t know what’s happening, gasps against the vigilante’s mouth. The tongue sliding over his, the muffled moan in his mouth sparks something in the back of his brain where the Court of Owls could never touch.

When Nightwing pulls back, stares up at wide violet-blue eyes, when the blade falls away to clatter against the block, when the Talon’s mouth trembles and tears fill his eyes, when his wings flutter and falter, fold in on them both, when his voice goes hoarse with, “D-Dick?” Nightwing throws both arms around his waist and holds on.

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cuddlepilefics · 4 years ago

Text

Sprinkles and Cream

Fandom: Stray Kids

Sickie: Jisung

Caregiver: Hyunjin

Noone’s POV.:

To say Jisung had a bad day would have been an understatement. He was the only member who had been called into the studio on their off day and not for something good. The producer had reviewed the rap lyrics Jisung had written and there wasn’t a single line he didn’t tear apart. With each passing minute the young rapper became more frustrated. Apparently, the hours of work and the effort he had put into writing his lyrics were all for nothing. Not only was he frustrated, he was also hurt. The words had all come from heart and having them dismissed that harshly broke the boy’s heart. He’d have to start all over again, with a lot more pressure too because the deadlines were much closer now. Besides having an already packed schedule, he’d also have to come up with new lyrics. He didn’t even know if he could think of different lines after he had already spilled his heart over the pages but he nodded along with the producer and bowed politely, taking the papers covered in red marker and promising he’d do better. Being the professional he was, Jisung held it together as long as he was in the studio but the second he was dismissed, he hurried to the bathroom, shoving the crumpled up lyric sheets into his back-pocket.

Hiding in one of the stalls for the fear of someone witnessing him cry, he took out his phone texting their leader, who had helped him with the lyrics, revising and rephrasing. He didn’t want to make a phone call, not trusting his voice not to break and give away the fact that he was crying. Chan was understandably stunned that the other’s entire lyrics got rejected. He had read over them multiple times and was satisfied with the way they fit into the entirety of their song. Being a composer and songwriter himself, the older boy knew that his dongsaeng’s word came from heart and held a strong meaning for the other. Knowing just how much Jisung had to be hurting at the harsh words of their producer but not being able to help him where he was at, all the leader could do was to tell Jisung to come home. They’d go over the lyrics together and see what changes the producer wanted after the younger boy had calmed down a bit. Yes, it would be stressful starting all over again while following their schedule but they’d manage. Especially because the leader knew Changbin would be helping too. 3racha never left each other hanging, as all of them had been in similar situations before.

Bang Chan himself wasn’t at the dorm this particular moment. He had taken most of his dongsaengs out on a shopping trip only leaving behind Jisung who had gone to the studio and Hyunjin who had already gone shopping twice this week and preferred to stay at the dorm watching dramas. The leader knew he wouldn’t be home before Jisung got there, so he told the younger to make himself some hot chocolate and maybe listen to some music to relax. He shouldn’t look at the lyrics yet but instead clear his mind, so they can work on it together later. Chan also texted Hyunjin, warning him to go easy with his teasing since the younger rapper was having a rather shitty day. Hyunjin agreed and continued watching his drama till he heard the front door open, revealing a slightly rough looking squirrel. The boy’s eyes were still reddened a bit and his lips formed a small frown.

After kicking off his shoes, the rapper made his way to Chan’s room, placing the dismissed lyrics on the desk for them to work on later, and then went to his own room to put on a more comfortable outfit. He walked past the living room, weakly greeting Hyunjin. “Sungie, come join hyung. The protagonist is soon going to find out that his girlfriend is cheating on him and I need my emotional support squirrel when that happens”, the dancer whined dramatically. “One minute, I’ll make some hot chocolate. You want some?”, the younger called from the kitchen to which his hyung only replied with an impatient ‘no but hurry’. Jisung didn’t hurry all that much. He took the time to add a good amount of whipped cream from a spray-bottle in their fridge, creating a small mountain on top of his hot chocolate and covering it in a ton of sprinkles afterwards. When he was done preparing his cup of diabetes, he joined his friend on the couch.

“Yah! Would you like some hot cocoa with your mountain of sprinkles? Seriously Sung, are you trying to put yourself in a sugar coma?”, Hyunjin laughed taking a glace at the younger’s cup. Smiling innocently, Jisung scooped up some cream and sprinkles with a spoon, letting them crunch between his teeth before answering: “None of your business, stocky-boy. You know, having some sugar here and there wouldn’t hurt you.” The dancer then remembered to keep the teasing light and only chuckled, letting the other have his way, as they continued to watch a few more episodes together. Jisung had basically decided to just drown his hurt in sugar, preparing himself another cup of cocoa somewhere along the third episode, covering it with at least the same amount of sprinkles and fully ignoring his hyung’s frown. Hyunjin was determined to distract Jisung from everything work related, having noticed the younger’s tear-stained cheeks although he didn’t comment on it. There was only one thing the dancer was a bit critical about and that was the younger having a second cup of his sweet beverage. He knew chocolate was comforting, so he had no issue with the first cup but how was the rapper going to stomach two of them? The older could only speak for himself but he would feel really sick after only having half of the cup Jisung had devoured and now the younger was having another one? Knowing he’d only upset the younger but not stop him if he commented on it, Hyunjin stayed silent and observed curiously whether Jisung would actually finish his drink or not.

It had been half an hour since the rapper had finished his second cup of hot chocolate, surprising both Hyunjin and himself, when Hyunjin heard a small moan coming from the other side of the couch. “I’m never eating anything ever again”, the younger pouted palming his stuffed belly, which let out an audible gurgle in return, making Hyunjin flinch: “You ok over there?” Jisung nodded quickly before shaking his head in defeat. “Stomachache?”, the dancer guessed but the other only frowned: “Kind of but I also kind of feel like I’m going to be sick.” Hyunjin gave a small laugh, he wasn’t too worried since the younger’s voice held no hint of urgency. “I guess that was about a ton of sprinkles too much. Just let it settle and don’t move too much. You’ll be fine”, the dancer chuckled and patted his donsaeng’s shoulder comfortingly. “I’m serio-“, the younger started, cutting himself off with a gag. Cursing, Hyunjin jumped up from the couch and grabbed Jisung’s arm, dragging the younger to the bathroom. They made it just in time for the rapper to bring up a small wave of his stomach contents, colorful sprinkles comically decorating the toilet bowl before getting washed away by another larger wave. Feeling his own stomach twist, the dancer told myself ‘Come on Hyunjin, get it together and be a good hyung!’ before sitting down on the bathtub to comfort his dongsaeng.

Hyunjin had pulled out a few hairclips out of his own hair and pinned the younger’s hair out of his face, just in time to watch his squirrel-cheeks puff out. The dancer quickly looked away, rubbing Jisung’s back as he tried to ignore the sound of liquid hitting liquid, only glancing back at the other when he heard soft sniffling sounds. To Jisung this was just the cherry on top, after already having had a bad day and he couldn’t help the tears flowing from his eyes. All he had wanted to do was have a fun off day with his friends and what did he get instead? “Hey shh, you’ll be ok, squirrel”, Hyunjin hushed, wiping away some of the tears. “Hyung”, the younger whined, startling his hyung. The older was rarely referred to as ‘hyung’ by the rapper because he often acted younger than the rapper himself despite being physically older. Hyunjin knew for Jisung to use honorifics with him, the younger would have to feel really vulnerable and it was a way of giving in to being weak. “It’s ok, hyung is here. You’ll be ok. You just need to get rid of everything that’s making you feel bad and everything will be fine”, he promised his dongsaeng after getting over the shock of being called ‘hyung’.

Hyunjin knew Jisung was fighting the urge to get sick, struggling hard to keep his rebelling stomach in place but soon he lost the battle, heaving up two larger waves almost back to back, scaring himself and grabbing onto his hyung’s hand for support and reassurance. “That’s it, Sungie. Almost there. Just get it all up. You’ll feel so much better afterwards”, the dancer encouraged. Jisung wanted to believe him, he really did but he freaked out when he started to choke on some of the sprinkles he coughed up. Hyunjin was quick to grasp the situation however, patting forcefully between the rapper’s shoulderblades till he heard the younger draw a shaky breath in. “Do you think you’re done”, he asked when Jisung hadn’t thrown up anything else in the last few minutes. The dancer was almost certain there was nothing left, having witnessed just how was the boy’s tiny body could eject. To his surprised, the younger shook his head, palming his sore middle with a pout before scrambling back over the toilet with an unproductive retch. Sighing, Hyunjin traced the whimpering boy’s spine and cringed when another, harsher retch managed to bring up a small trickle of bile, indicating that Jisung was indeed empty. The dancer had really been able to feel the effort it took to bring that up by the way his spine rippled under his hand. Spitting weakly, the rapper tore of a piece of toilet paper to clean himself up before flushing the toilet and announcing: “Now I’m done.”

He let his friend pull him to his feet and sat down on the closed toilet lid, accepting the toothbrush Hyunjin pressed into his hand. “I’ll get you some water and maybe tea to settle that upset stomach of yours”, the dancer smiled, “if you want we can take a nap and cuddle a bit till you feel better.” – “That’d be nice, hyung. I’m exhausted”, Jisung rasped with his voice strained from getting sick. His head had started hurting from the strain somewhere along the way too and he wanted nothing more than to lay down. Feeling unusually protective of his dongsaeng, the older gave him a quick hug before disappearing with the words: “Alright, finish up and I’ll meet you in your room.”

Of course, the dancer stuck to his promise, holding the other, who was knocked out almost as soon as he got under the covers, tight for almost two hours. No, it wasn’t usual for the pair to show how fond they were of each other, spending most of the time insulting the other but they both knew, should times get hard they’d have each other’s back.

#sick #sickfic #skz #stray kids #fanfic #whump #emeto #angst #han jisung #hwang hyunjin #fluff #comfort

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deliverydefresas · 4 years ago

Text

moving step by step (together)

second and last thing i posted on wp that i haven't posted here ((i think)) feel free to ignore if you've read this on wattpad already, as i'm just posting it in case i need to refer to it later.

(not proofread. it never is)

prompt(?): domestic!simbar deciding to move in together (toanothercountry)

When her day began, she didn't imagine it'd end up the way it did. In fact, to ��mbar the day felt like an endless nightmare.

Between her washing machine breaking, one of her kitchen cloths accidentally catching on fire when she was making her breakfast, her car not starting and thus being late to her first class, forgetting an important paper at home and losing 1/5 of her grade for one of the toughest classes in her semester; Ámbar just wanted to call it a day and forget she even had to endure it.

"The professor told me he'd let me turn it the paper, as long as I added 10,000 words more; and hear this: he won't give me the 20% of the grade, but a 15%, tops." She still needed to get her laundry done, so she'd opted to come by Simón's loft (and Nico and Pedro's too) when her classes had ended. While she waited for it to be done, she'd grabbed a glass of wine while venting her boyfriend's ears off. "So now I need to find something to write about that's worth 1000 words of coherency, otherwise I'll be lucky to even have a 10%. And God knows I need it."

Simón kissed her head sympathetically, adjusting her head - previously leaning on his shoulder- a little bit closer to his neck. "You will, little gem. You're the smartest one in your class, I'm sure you'll find something and, it's penultimate semester, you can do it."

She groaned, "I wish it were as easy as that." He kissed her cheek this time, and she snuggled into him a bit more, needing his support to make her feel less stressed. "Enough of me, how was your day?"

He chuckled, "not as interesting as yours, I'm afraid. Did a little songwriting, had a video-call with a magazine, changed my sheets..." he winked at her, making her laugh.

"Aw, do you want me to give you a gold start? Maybe I should call your mom, tell her her little boy is a nice young man who makes his own bed." Simón leaned in to bite her cheek, causing her to and almost spill her wine all over the couch, and to prevent this, the red liquid ended up on her shirt. Technically, it was one of his, since today's clothes had been thrown in the washer with the rest of the laundry, but still, spilling wine on her clothes wasn't nice. "Simón!" she scoffed him, which only made him laugh at her. He told her to grab another of his old shirts, while he refilled her glass.

She stood up then, cursing him all the way to his room to grab one of the 'pajama' shirts he kept in his top drawer. Ámbar heard him call to her once she had put it on; "hey, is tacos okay with you for dinner? Or do you want me to order you something else?"

"What are the guys having?" she questioned, to prepare herself in case the others ordered less than what their stomachs wanted to eat, and later lead them to steal her food.

"Pedro's staying at Delfi's and Nico is out with his fling, so nothing." Simón answered her, entering his room with his cellphone at hand.

"Then the usual." She told him simply, her boyfriend nodded. "Hey, can I use your laptop to check my e-mail? My phone died."

Simón nodded again. "Sure. Hello? I would like to order two pastor gringas..." he left the room again, not before pointing at his desk, where his laptop was sitting on. She quickly turned it on, taking it to the living room to wait for Simón to finish the call.

Her boyfriend was one of those people who didn't put a password on the device itself, but on the archives in it (which were mostly lyrics, tracks, and unreleased songs), so it didn't take long until she had the browser opened.

Ámbar tried to ignore whatever Simón had open in his last tab, but the images displayed caught her attention.

No, it wasn't porn, nor was it anything compromising. At least not in that way.

Her boyfriend had a Real Estate website open, showing apartments in sale. However, that wasn't what surprised her – he'd talked about finding his own place before-, but that all the options listed Mexico City as their location.

He'd never mentioned moving back to Mexico. They'd planned vacations to his hometown Cancún, sure, but somehow in all their talks about the future she'd had assumed their plans took place in Buenos Aires, close to her family instead of his. She could deal with him going on tour for weeks – she didn't bear months as well as she did weeks, and for this he always flew her in- but to live in two different countries? How was their relationship supposed to work in that scenario? Would it even work out? Sure, she was almost over with her degree, but-

"Little gem," her eyes snapped from the screen to where Simón was standing, by the kitchen's door, "I ordered you an almond horchata, is that okay?" she kept staring at him. "What? Is my laptop giving you problems? Your mail?"

She sighed. "No, I actually haven't opened my mail yet." He gave her a confused look.

"Then what's it? You've been staring at the screen for at least two minutes."

"When were you planning on telling me you're moving to Mexico?"

His mouth shut, his eyes showed surprise and an underlying regret. "Uh... soon?"

"So it's true, then? You're moving there?" Ámbar didn't want her voice to sound as hurt as it did, but she couldn't conceal it, either. After all, this was her boyfriend, the guy she was in love with, and who she'd loved for years now... to imagine him living so far away from her, it hurt her deeply.

To find out like this, instead of from his own mouth, was like salt to the wound. Her already shitty day was turning for the worse.

Simón sighed, his demeanor showing he was ashamed of it. "It's an option." He pursed his lips slightly, walking over to the couch, taking the device off her lap to turn her body towards him. "I was planning on talking to you about this sooner than later, I promise."

"When? When you had already bought it? Or when I had to say goodbye at the airport?" she couldn't help but dab at him, her temper was talking for her right then, "and what do you mean with 'it's an option'? You're looking for a place already, surely it's more than simple 'option'."

Simón let out a sigh, a sign he wasn't sure how to explain it to her, "I- have you noticed how most of our label meetings have been taking place in México?" She nodded, it was hard not to. The boys and him didn't really leave the city unless they absolutely had to, which could be summed up in three reasons: touring, vacations, and meetings. She'd always frown a little when those meetings took place, because she couldn't really understand why they had to leave when their label had offices in BsAs, but never really dared to ask Simón, afraid she'd come out as clingy for not wanting him to leave her for a couple days.

"I just assumed all the 'important' people chose to meet there instead of flying down here."

He scratched his nape. "It's a little bigger than that. Their HQ has always been up there, and their offices here have worked on a smaller scale for years; however, they've wanted all their more... 'recognizable' artists to be closer for a while now."

"So, they're making you move there?"

"Yes and no. They've been nagging us since the beginning to move to Mexico City, but it's only now we've – well, I've- considered it as an option."

"Why? Don't Pedro and Nico want, too?"

Simón grimaced. "They've already been considering it for a couple of years." Oh. Now that she thought about it, Delfina had hinted multiple times over the months 'the possibility' of working in another country. She'd always assumed she meant taking international jobs for a short period while Pedro was out on tour too, but now she guessed she'd meant for her to imagine that possibility, too.

It seemed like she'd assumed lots of things, and it stung to know she'd been in the dark far longer than everyone else. Even Delfi – who'd been dating Pedro a considerably less time than she'd been with Simón- knew of this before her.

Which made her ask him once again. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"Because you're still in uni, little gem, and I didn't want to move somewhere else while you were here; I still don't. I had a plan, honestly; I was going to wait until you neared graduation to slowly get you used to the idea, and, well, I also wanted to wait in case we didn't work out." She pursed her lips as she was still mad, but knew he had a point. He always did.

"You could've talked to me sooner, though. We could've planned this way sooner, make it easier for both." Ámbar sighed out, trying to get her anger out with it.

"I know, I get it now, and I'm very sorry." He apologized sincerely, grabbing one of her hands to kiss it. "This in no way is me telling you I'm moving tomorrow and leaving you here, little gem, I'd never do that. Hell, I don't even think I could. It's just..."

"An option." She finished for him, sighing again. "I guess I- I don't know, maybe I could start looking at internships in CDMX? When- when would this take place anyway? And I have to talk to my mo-" her eyes widened, "God, my mom! What do I tell her if we go? She'll be all alone here!" Her voice sounded panicky even to her.

"Hey, it's okay, there's no hurry. We've already postponed this for years with the boys, another year or so won't change anything, in fact, we'll need all we can get to get papers and stuff in check. And your mom can always come with us if you're worried about her, no biggie." He told her, as if the three of them moving countries wasn't a big deal, or, y'know, extremely expensive.

"Do you seriously want my mom living with us, Simón?" she snapped at him, and immediately felt bad to do so. He was just trying to help her and then here she was, bitching on his offers. "Sorry, sorry. I'm just... overwhelmed, sorry." He shrugged it off.

"I was actually thinking of you two getting your own apartment but since you're oh so kindly offering to live together..." Her eyes widened once more, shocked. She hadn't realized she'd implied that. "... I guess we can either buy or rent one for ourselves and rent another for your mom."

"That's not what- I mean it's not necessary. An apartment for my mom and I would be okay if she even agrees to move."

Her boyfriend started pouting. "Are you saying you don't want to move in with me?"

"No, no, that's not what I mean-" she stopped talking once she saw a teasing grin on his face. "You're messing with me."

He shook his head, silently laughing as he reached out to sit her on his lap, hugging her waist tightly. "I'm not. I'm actually happy you asked me to move with you, so I don't have to when the time comes."

"I didn't ask you." She felt the need to point it out. "You just assumed I did."

"Because you assumed we'd live together. It's okay; if it were up to me I'd be living with you in a heartbeat, I've thought about it for a while."

She gulped. "You have?"

"Yeah, but since I'm living with two dudes and you're living with your mom... it just isn't viable." That got her thinking.

"Why haven't you gotten your own apartment yet? Any of you?"

Simón shrugged, leaning into their coffee table to grab their glasses. "Rent is cheaper when you divide into three, and all of us have been saving up to get our own pads for when we moved to CDMX."

"It was never a matter of 'if', was it? It was always a 'when' you moved." She already knew the answer, of course, so she didn't wait for him to answer. "What took you so long to do so? I'm sure you could've done so years ago, and now you're waiting for Delfi and I, I guess, but before? What held you back?"

He pondered it for a minute, didn't speak immediately. "Something always came up. At first, we didn't have enough money saved, then Nico's mom had an accident, Pedro wanting to stay until his little sister finished high school... then you. My guess is the universe was waiting for us to meet to let me leave the city." She couldn't help but laugh at this.

"You're such a corny guy."

"Only for you, little gem, only for you." Ámbar took a sip of her wine before snuggling closer to his chest, earning her a kiss on her hair. "So, are we doing this?"

She pushed the anxiety of the unknown to the back of her mind, she knew that if she overthought about it she'd find reasons not to. Instead, she took a deep breath, intoxicating herself with the smell of soap and lotion that lingered on her boyfriend all the time.

"Yeah," she sighed, "but we're doing this together."

"Together," he repeated, giving her hand another kiss. "I like the sound of that."

#soy luna #simbar #simón álvarez #ámbar smith #my simbar ff #my sl ff #mine

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bakugous-abs · 4 years ago

Text

Day 5 of Halloween 2020

~Brought to you today by Admin Bomb!

~~~

October First

Halloween. God, Bakugou couldn't tell if it was his favorite or least favorite time of the year.

No, he definitely wasn't one to wear a costume and go out trick or treating. That time was way past him and he couldn't remember why and how the hell he was able to trust getting candy from strangers. Frankly that whole aspect of Halloween seemed so hypocritical!

Every other time of the year we’re told to not take candy from strangers. Never ever once were we allowed to take candy from them. But on this specific day? Sure! Go right ahead. Infact, take candy from MULTIPLE strangers!! Nothing could go wrong with that.

The countless reports of needles being stuck in licorice and suckers already being sucked in told a different story.

And the fucking k i d s. They were so annoying. Screaming and running after each other. Throwing a fit when they didn't get the kind of candy they want or when their siblings got one extra piece. The snot and tears. It was so gross.

That part of Halloween, Bakugou said fuck off to.

However the scaring? And the terrified faces? That's something he could look forward to.

Seeing the look of horror Pikachu got when he prayed on one of his fears was so exciting. The heightened anxiety in the Yuuei hallways made for some easy targets to make scream and run away.

That, is why Bakugou liked Halloween.

“Yo Bakubro, we’re gonna head out and get our costumes. You wanna come with?” Kirishima barged into his room, flicking on the light.

“Fuck no.” Bakugou cursed. The sudden brightness was stinging his eyes, the red irises struggling to adjust to sudden change. “I already told you last week you dumbass, I don’t do trick or treating.”

Kirishima's shoulders visibly went limp, a pout occupying his lips. “Come on man, it’ll be fun. You even get to scare some little kids.”

“I can do that without the help of a costume. Now get out.”

He huffed. “If you say so, man. We’ll be back later! See ya.” And with that Bakugou's door shut with a click, the lights left on.

The blond cursed the redhead under his breath. Why was it so hard to shut off the light when they leave! He has it off every single time they open the door, so why not shut it off again when they leave!?

Bakugou got up to shut the light off, but stopped in his tracks when he noticed a letter on his neat floor. When did that get there? Did shitty-hair leave it there when he left?

It was a pretty white envelope with a splotch of red to the left of the center. As he got closer he read his name in very intricate cursive. Had it not been for the date in a nice fine print, and the fact that he didn't like anyone and fully expected no one to like him back, in the upper corner he would have assumed this was an old valentines letter.

He picked it up. What the fuck was this doing here? The handwriting was very obviously not Shittyhairs. His was too rough and sharp to ever resemble something like this.

“10-1-xxxx <3 Bakugou”

Hesitantly, he turned it around and found a wax seal on the back. A simple circle, nothing more.

The letter was ripped open, the wax seal completely forgotten. If the letter inside got ripped, that wasn’t his problem. Unfortunately, the letter went completely unscathed.

He took it out and unfolded it, careful to hold it horizontally in case this was a prank gift from one of the dunces that called him his friend, but there was no such thing. Infact, the letter seemed virtually empty except for right smack dab in the middle. A small word written in what seemed to be a font designed to replicate human writing.

“Hi”

Bakugou's eyebrows crinkled. That's it? He turned the paper over, flipped it back, then turned it over once more. Nothing.

“Such a waste of fucking paper.” He muttered, crushing the note within his palm and lit off his explosions, a caramel scent wafting through the air and black smoke trailing along with it.

He threw what was left of it into his trash, dusted it off his hands, and flicked the lights back off.

Whoever wrote that letter had a pretty terrible sense of humor

~~~~~

October Second

Bakugou woke up the next morning like usual. Stretch, pop his joints and spark a few explosions, then sit up and get ready for school. The letter from yesterday lingered in the back of his mind, still annoyed that someone thought something like that would even be considered funny.

How the hell just writes a tiny Hi on a whole sheet of paper. Its such a fucking waste! It was irritating him more than anything.

That's why when he got a second letter this morning, also slid underneath his door, he just threw it on his bed to be dealt with later. He didn’t need to get any more pissed off about something before going to school and getting pissed off even more. No, that can wait till after he got his homework done.

And it did wait. During the day he completely forgot about the existence of the letter. Going to classes, almost blowing Dekus face off in training, shouting at the group that seemed to be stuck to his thighs, going to more classes. Completely normal.

But when he got home and locked himself in his room to do homework and calm down, he saw the letter on his bed and immediately became pissed again.

He marched on over to it and picked it, opening it in the same fashion he did yesterday and again, the letter managed to come out unscathed.

He opened the paper, preparing to see another waste of paper. Unfortunately the universe was granting his wishes, but not to the extent he was thinking.

This time, there was a sentence, a sentence that made his heart stop for a second.

“You have lovely skin.”

What. The actual. Fuck.

Who the hell is this? Why are they talking about his skin? How do they know anything about his skin?

Subconsciously his eyes darted around him. Everything looked the exact same. He looked behind him, no one was there. But there was a nagging feeling in the middle of his back, like someone was staring there no matter where he turned.

Fuck this.

His eyes glided toward the balcony. The curtain were wide open. But they were facing the 1-B building. No one could be watching him…

The curtains were closed in a matter of seconds.

~~~~~

October Seventh

The letters kept coming. Every day they got creepier. Complimenting a feature about him and details this person would only know if they got close to him.

He was losing sleep. His eight hour nights shortening rapidly to only around four hours and it wasn't consecutive.

Yesterday he became so sick of it he grabbed the five letters he had received, first still burnt in his trash can, and stomped down to the lounge room, confronting them of the letters asking whoever it was that was sending them to step the fuck up.

No one had any idea what he was talking about.

He attacked all the girls first, not physically no, but yelling at them to confess who done it. No dude in their class would have this good of handwriting other than that belly button laser guy.

But he had no idea later, saying Bakugou was not exactly his type, which he got a yelling for as well.

Todays letter… wasnt any better than the last.

"This is almost as much fun as watching you sleep."

He held the latter in his hand, not noticing the grip slowly getting tighter and tighter, and suddenly the ends were crinkled and charred, the only thing left was a single word.

Fun.

~~~~~

October Fifteenth

Bakugou finally cracked and told the teachers about the letters. To say they overreacted was,,, actually just about right.

There were now teachers stationed on top of the buildings, around the perimeter, and on Bakugous floor.

He hated to admit it but having a few pro heroes there eased his edge a little. A felt safer. Safer than he had in the last two weeks.

But unfortunately, that wasnt enough.

For in the middle of the night, to his absolute horror, the rustling of paper was heard across his room.

His body went cold. Eyes wide as all hell. He used his feet to curl all his blanket away from the edges of his bed and under his legs and over his body.

'Please,' his mind pleaded. 'Please fucking tell me thats not another letter.'

And to his absolute horror, when he sat up, just a little bit… there, visible in the light shining under the crack of his door, was a letter, with the same red heart and perfect cursive handwriting that spelled out his name.

"Please dont scream, they'll hear you"

~~~~~

October Twenty-sixth

Its been a few days since hes gone out of his room. The pros thought hed feel safer in his room where they could keep an eye on him but in reality.

Bakugou didnt feel safe at all.

Everywhere he went his anxiety told him someone was there. With beady eyes that went unblinking just… staring at him. Like he was a slab of meat for a hungry starving lion.

But he wasnt allowed to complain, even though he did, and was expected to remain still.

He was expected to wait.

Wait.

And wait.

He didn't want to wait. He didn't want to be here anymore.

He was behind on his classes, but he couldn't focus long enough on the work to get it done anyway.

He had nothing else to distract him. Hes read through all his books, played all his games, watched all his movies. There was nothing else to do other than wait like a sitting duck.

So what the hell was he supposed to do?

And while he had his door shut, he finally broke down, tears streaming down his face and fear coursing through his veins as he knew, by the sound of paper sliding under his door, that he wasnt safe anywhere anymore.

"Dont struggle, I hate when they struggle"

~~~~~

October 31st. Halloween Night

Halloween...

Halloween. Bakugou hated Halloween.

He hated Halloween. He hated being scared. Scared all the time.

He couldnt handle the sound of paper anymore. Not the sound of it wrinkling, folding, unfolding, ripping, he hated paper.

All kinds of paper.

Wrappers, notebook, printer.

It was all terrible.

And now… he can't even handle unwrapping his own candy.

Bakugou hated Halloween.

And has another letter slid under his door, now in direct daylight, and got up and looked at it.

The cursive was now just scratches. The heart too dark to be artificial.

He opened it, slipping the paper out and reading the note. One word. Tiny in the middle of the paper, resembling the first ever note he got. One word.

'Bye…'

However, this time, when he turned the note over, he found something else. Another word- no, a sentence.

'Till next year… Bakugou Katsuki.'

And just like that, his body ran cold, and his vision went dark.

#boku no hero academia #boku no hero academia x reader #boku no hero #boku no hero x reader #bnha #bnha x reader #bnha blog #mha #mha blog #mha x reader #my hero academia #my hero academia x reader #x reader insert #ask blog #bnha ask blog #mha ask

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frobster · 4 years ago

Text

Offer of a Lifetime: Chapter 2

Both chapters now up on ao3!

☆☆☆

Peter stayed where he was for a moment, shocked by what had just happened, before his phone buzzed again and brought him back to himself. He looked down at the number of missed messages and quickly read through them, MJ becoming increasingly frantic when Peter didn’t immediately answer.

> Peter: So, James was just in my apartment

> Peter: Also, he told me to call him Bucky

The buzzing started again before Peter could even lock his phone. He ignored it as he went around getting dressed, pulling on underwear and sweatpants before checking again.

> MJ: PETER WHAT THE FUCK

> Ned: BRO ARE YOU OKAY???

> Peter: I’m fine. He left. Gave me a week to think about his offer. Also said he would leave me alone completely if I turned him down

> MJ: And u believed him???????????

> Peter: He didn’t give me a reason not to. There weren't any threats, and he did wait wait a whole day before contacting me

> Ned: Sugar daddy already getting to you smh

> Peter: Come on, you know it would be amazing to have a sugar daddy

> MJ: Ya but this one could put u in a lot of danger

Peter bit his lip as he thought. MJ was right. While it was his dream to be a kept boy and never have to worry about anything, he wasn’t sure if it was worth the dangers associated with Bucky. He would definitely need the whole week to think.

> MJ: We’re gonna talk more tonight. I’ll see u at 7:45

> Peter: Sounds good

Bucky was at the forefront of Peter’s mind for the rest of the day. He didn’t really have anything to do until the evening, so he lounged around much like the previous day and tried to find more on the internet about Bucky.

“Where did that name even come from?” Peter muttered to himself as he clicked on yet another tabloid article. The gossip papers had a lot to speculate about him since they loved to lie about crime and drama. He mostly skimmed the articles since they all seemed to be sensationalized and mostly rumors.

One thing that stood out to Peter was the consistent inclusion of a broad blonde man almost always on Bucky’s right. The few pictures that weren’t blurry or grainy made the man seem relatively attractive, and Peter had to wonder if he was a past fling or just a confidante. Bucky obviously liked men, given his interest in Peter, but that still didn’t confirm anything.

The day oozed by in a cloud of laziness - naps, articles, snacks. Peter didn’t leave the couch except to get a snack or use the bathroom. By the time 6pm rolled around, Peter finally got up to start getting ready. He never took too long, but he didn’t want to rush either. The weather was still decent, so he decided on a pair of shorts that would help show off his legs and a mesh tank top that wouldn’t really cover anything. Beneath the shorts, he had red panties. Even if it led to him getting misgendered more often, the panties did help him get more money out of clients.

Peter ran his hands through his hair to make it fluffy and messy, swiped some gloss over his lips before tucking the tube into his bag, then looked at his measly pile of shoes. There weren’t many to choose from and most of them were bought purely for style rather than function. He ended up going back to his room to grab a pair of knee-high socks before sliding on a pair of black high-top sneakers. People still liked scene twinks, right? The socks would help keep his legs warm too once the sun went down and the air got cooler.

Picking his outfit didn’t take very long, so Peter was left with almost an hour until he had to leave. Then he remembered that Ned and MJ went grocery shopping for him, so he took a tour of his own kitchen to see what they got for him. Most of it was canned goods so it wouldn’t go to waste if he didn’t eat it quickly, but there were some fresher foods too like prepackaged salads and frozen chicken.

Settling on the chicken and a salad, Peter hauled out the bag of chicken tenders to check the required oven temperature. He got the oven set and preheating before wandering back to his couch and flopping over the back of it. Upon checking his phone, he finally saw the few messages from Bucky that he missed while showering.

> I’m coming to visit soon. Try to look presentable.

Sent almost as soon as Peter stepped into the shower. He grimaced at the bad timing and scrolled down to read the rest, sent after Bucky had left.

> Obviously you did not see my message beforehand, as I assume a towel around your waist and a bare chest is not what you would typically consider “presentable”.

> You have until next Wednesday to make your decision. If you do not give me an answer before then, I will assume you’re uninterested and leave you alone, like I promised.

Peter sighed and reread the messages a few times. Then he saved Bucky’s contact number before taking another screenshot to send to his friends.

> Peter: See? I told you he would leave me alone if I turned him down

> MJ: I guess he may not be such a terrible person…

> Ned: He literally runs the New York mafia

> MJ: Yeah, but he knows how to treat a boy right

> Peter: I’m feeling heart emojis. Should I change his name in my phone to Daddy?

> Ned: NO!!!!!!!

> MJ: skjghalfaldfk YES

> Ned: Do NOT encourage him!!

Peter laughed to himself and quickly changed Bucky’s contact name to ‘Daddy’ followed by pink and purple heart emojis. Then he took another screenshot of the saved contact and sent it to the chat.

> MJ: I expect updates every time he texts you. We have to decide if he’s good enough for our baby

> Ned: I will not approve of Peter being the kept boy of the HEAD OF THE NEW YORK MAFIA

> Peter: Aw dad, you’re no fun

> Ned: Don’t make me ground you

> MJ: Not allowed, Peter and I have work tonight

> MJ: Maybe daddy will bring us some coffee

> Peter: Hey! Only I am allowed to call him daddy

> MJ: Aw, possessive already? ;)

> Peter: ...maybe

> Ned: I’m doomed. We’re all doomed

Their casual, friendly conversation continued for a while until Ned had to put his phone away for class. Peter and MJ switched to single texting as they talked about their plans for that night. She had got them a new corner a few blocks away from where Bucky had picked Peter up, but they both knew that Bucky could find them again if he really wanted to.

The oven soon beeped so Peter got up to put a couple chicken tenders on a pan and into the oven. He set a timer on his phone then looked around his apartment as he tried to figure out what to do to pass the time.

But rather than finding something to do, Peter just realized how shitty his apartment really was. The walls were thin and dirty, there was a crack spiderwebbing up the wall in a corner, the floors were stained and worn out from countless tenants. He sighed and slumped against the kitchen counter, a cheap laminated wood that creaked even under his slight weight. There were multiple different bug problems through the building - cockroaches, ants, spiders, wasps. He had a roach problem in his own apartment, leading to all food in the cabinets needing to be canned so they couldn't chew into it.

It was exhausting to live in poverty. Peter hated his apartment but it was all he could really afford. The life insurance policy from his aunt was used to pay off his surgery bills and the rest was funneled to any other medical costs that came up, including his hormone prescription. While he did have some money in savings, it would not be enough to allow him to live somewhere better. He was losing money faster than he made it back.

Bucky’s offer was slowly becoming more and more attractive.

When the timer went off on his phone, Peter swiped it away before carefully taking out the tray of chicken. He set it on the stove to let it cool while he took out the prepared salad bag and set to mixing everything together. Then, since he didn’t feel like using multiple dishes, he cut up the chicken on the baking pan and scraped the pieces into the salad bowl.

“Yeah, I can provide for myself,” Peter said to himself before taking a bite.

The salad was filling and Peter actually felt like he had a decent amount of energy. He took the time to wash all the dishes he used rather than trying to jam them into the dishwasher, brushed his teeth, reapplied his lip gloss, then checked the time.

MJ had sent a few more messages with details of their shift that night, and Ned announced the end of his class and the offer of searching Bucky more. Peter bit his lip as he considered it. If he was going to really give Bucky’s offer some serious consideration, he felt he needed to know the man better. Or he could just text Bucky.

Before he could chicken out, Peter sent a quick text to Bucky and pocketed his phone so he could finalize his outfit and wait for MJ.

> Peter: If you want me to live with you, I’m gonna need to know more about you.

There wasn’t any reply before MJ arrived. Peter sighed as he looked at his lack of notifications before he tucked his phone away, grabbed his bag, and headed out to meet MJ.

There was some tension in the car as a lackey drove Peter and MJ to their new corner. The random guy was humming along to music on the radio while the other two held hands in the back of the car. He didn’t say anything as he stopped at a new corner and unlocked the door, a clear signal for them to get out.

Peter stepped out with his mini backpack shouldered and fixed his shorts once he was standing. MJ followed him out and fixed her skirt too, her own bag slung across her chest and accenting her cleavage. Another reason why MJ was slightly better off than Peter was her assets. People just tended to want her more often than him. He wasn’t upset about that, he knew his friend was gorgeous and she deserved the attention and money. He just couldn’t help but feel a little jealous of her slightly better financial state.

“Did Bucky say anything else?” MJ asked as the car drove off.

“Nope. I don’t really know what he would say,” Peter replied, hyper-aware of his phone in his pocket. He couldn’t remember if it had buzzed while they were in the car since his mind was wandering. Already, just one day after meeting the man, Peter couldn’t stop thinking about Bucky.

8pm wasn’t very late, the bars were just starting to fill up. Peter and MJ had time to talk before people would start showing interest in them. The sunset was nice to watch and offered a serene backdrop to the chaos of their lives, purples and reds blending together like the mundane and unusual of the past few days.

“I would think that he would try to sweeten the deal somehow, y’know? You’ve clearly been hesitant about accepting his offer, so wouldn’t he want to tempt you?” MJ looked at her nails and flicked a speck of invisible dust off the shiny finish, then winked at someone who was looking at her as they stepped into the nearby bar.

“I dunno how much sweeter the deal could get. He offered to pay for everything for the rest of my life, or leave me alone without any trouble. It’s a win-win situation.” Even to his own ears, Peter knew it sounded lame. He was so tempted to accept Bucky’s offer, and MJ could clearly hear that in his voice.

“You deserve to know more about him at least. Even Ned had a hard time finding anything on this guy. And now that we know he’s got some dangerous connections, it would be in your best interest to find out everything you can before making a decision, especially since you’re tempted to agree.” Peter MJ would’ve been an excellent counselor. Maybe she still could be. If they ever found themselves in a position to start saving up money, she could put it towards college classes.

“Yeah, I know. I’m just not-” Peter cut off when he felt his phone vibrate against his ass. He reached into his back pocket to pull it out and blinked as he read the message.

> Bucky: We could discuss that over dinner, if you’d like. I know you’re working, but I could talk to your boss and have him pardon you for the night.

Before Peter could reply to the text or finish what he was saying, MJ snatched his phone away to read the message.

“Hey! Give that back!” Peter squawked as he tried to grab his phone back.

But MJ was taller than him even without the heels she was wearing, so she just held the phone up and angled it down so she could read the screen. She laughed aloud when she read the message and finally lowered her hand again so Peter could have his phone back. He huffed as he stuffed it into his pocket again without bothering to answer.

“It’s cute that he’s already offering to cover your shifts for you. Maybe he’ll even give you some cash to make up for missing a whole night,” MJ teased with a grin. Peter felt too flustered to really register that she seemed to be encouraging him to leave with Bucky.

“There is nothing cute about this situation,” Peter huffed, cheeks flushed pink with embarrassment. He wasn’t really sure what he was embarrassed about. Maybe he didn’t realize how tempted he was to accept Bucky’s offer until MJ gave him that little nudge.

“Well, you’re pretty cute. It’s cute how often you blush when we talk about him.” MJ’s tone was more genuine that time, and Peter felt a little surprised.

“Did Ned tell you something else about this guy? Why do you seem so supportive of him now?” There was another buzz in Peter’s pocket but he ignored it, wanting to hear MJ’s answer first.

“You deserve a good life, Peter.” She looked at him, entirely serious, and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You’ve been through so much and you’re only nineteen. I want you to be happy, to have opportunities that we could never find in this line of work.”

“MJ…”

Before Peter could say more, his phone started buzzing like he had a call. He sighed and reached into his pocket, making a brief note that it was Bucky calling before he answered.

“Hello?”

“You didn’t answer my text, Peter. So I called your boss anyway. I’m coming to pick you up. Would MJ like to join us for dinner?”

Peter just squeaked, his jaw dropped open as he tried to think of what to say. MJ rolled her eyes and snatched the phone away again so she could talk for him.

“Hi, Bucky. Peter would love to go to dinner with you, but he seems to have forgotten how to speak.” She snickered at whatever Bucky said, Peter watching with wide eyes as she spoke with him so casually. “Aw, thank you! I would love to join you for dinner. If you intend to steal my boy away, I have to see if you’re worth his time.”

“MJ!” Peter finally came back to his senses and made a grab for his phone, but she held him back just like before.

“Yeah, that was him. He’s just so excited to see you again. We’ll be waiting for you!” MJ hung up the phone before handing it back to Peter with a grin. “He will be here in about fifteen minutes so zip up your hoodie and try to not look like such a whore.”

Peter swatted at MJ’s arm, making her cackle loudly as she pulled a balled-up shawl out of her bag to wrap around her shoulders and cover up her chest. She tended to wear shirts that showed off her cleavage but now that she wasn’t actively trying to attract customers, she wanted to look more modest. Peter had a sleeveless hoodie that he zipped over his mesh tank top, though he started to feel overheated after just a few minutes.

The hoodie got unzipped again as Peter rocked restlessly in place, anxious and eager to see Bucky again. MJ was updating Ned since Peter was too scared to look at his phone, snickering to herself every now and then.

Soon enough, a sleek black car pulled up. The windows were so heavily tinted that they looked black, but neither of them had to guess at who was inside. MJ tucked her phone away and Peter stepped closer to her, seeking out her familiar comfort as his nerves spiked.

The back window rolled down and a familiar face was revealed. Bucky looked at them both before nodding and pushing the door open.

“Come on, we got reservations in twenty minutes,” he said as he shifted to a seat on the other side of the car.

MJ stepped in first then tugged Peter in with her. She sat across from Bucky and not-so-subtly nudged Peter over to sit next to him. The seats were smooth and cool, and Peter was thankful for the air conditioning that let him zip up his hoodie again to hide his chest. Bucky had already seen him shirtless, but he felt awkward about it now.

The car pulled away from the curb as soon as the door was closed. Peter didn’t have a chance to buckle in so he swayed and ended up leaning into Bucky for a moment. He blushed and scooted away so he could clip his seat belt, then sat quietly and picked at the hem of his socks.

“So,” MJ started casually. “You’re who Peter has a crush on.”

“I do not!” Peter insisted, head snapping up so he could glare at MJ. She just grinned at him as Bucky made an amused sound.

“A crush, huh? That’s cute.” Bucky tucked his phone away and looked over to Peter with a smirk. “Have you given my offer any more thought?”

“It’s been like, six hours,” Peter pointed out, feeling a little more confident with MJ there to back him up.

“Plenty of time to think.” Bucky was watching Peter, eyes glued to him as he waited for a proper answer.

“I mean…” Peter sighed and slumped back against his seat. He did want to say yes, to agree and let Bucky carry him off into the sunset like some perfect romantic dream. It just didn’t feel real.

“We need some proof that you’re the real deal,” MJ finally said.

Bucky’s gaze flicked over to her as he raised an eyebrow. He clearly wasn’t someone who was used to being challenged like that, and for a moment, Peter feared for MJ. But then Bucky laughed and Peter’s heart skipped a beat at the sound.

“Conveniently enough, that is why I invited you along tonight. It’s good to know Peter has a friend looking out for him.”

“Two friends,” MJ corrected. “Ned has been diligently mining through the internet for information about you. He is the only reason why I agreed to dinner.”

Peter huffed as a faint blush dusted his cheeks. MJ was acting like her and Ned were his parents, and he was feeling a little embarrassed about that. Sure, he was the youngest out of the three of them, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t handle himself.

“Two friends,” Bucky amended. Then his gaze turned back to Peter and he reached over to gently rub the boy’s back. “You can relax, Peter. I promise my intentions with you are honorable.”

“And what exactly are your intentions?” Peter looked up again, finally meeting Bucky’s eyes.

There was a moment of hesitation and even MJ could feel the electricity hanging between Bucky and Peter.

“I want to take care of you the way you deserve. To spoil you, pamper you, give you anything you could ever want or need.” Bucky sounded honest and there was no nervous tic that would clue Peter in to a lie. But he still couldn’t believe it.

“Why?”

Another pause. Bucky looked torn between brushing it off and turning to a new subject, coming up with some flowery words that didn’t really answer the question, or actually telling the truth. He took a deep breath to steel his nerves, and decided on the last.

“You are beautiful. Handsome, gorgeous. Whatever term you’re most comfortable with. You are like a work of art, and I don’t want to see you waste away in the streets. You deserve so much more and what am I gonna do with all this money anyway? Hell, you could turn me down here and now and I would still send you money every week. I just want you to be happy.”

Peter blinked. He hadn’t expected such an emotional answer, but he felt touched by it. A quick glance over to MJ showed that she felt affected by it too, her eyes wide in surprise. For all the research the three of them had done, they never would’ve thought Bucky was the sentimental sort of guy.

“Oh.” Peter’s voice was faint as he tried to process all that Bucky said.

Bucky swore under his breath and leaned back in his seat. He had moved closer to Peter as he spoke, but now he felt he should give the younger man some space. But to everyone’s surprise, Peter reached out and set a hand on Bucky’s knee before managing a smile.

“I appreciate that, Bucky. I really do. Thank you.”

There was a beat of silence before Bucky cleared his throat and nodded. He gave Peter a tight smile, seeming a little less confident than when they first got in the car. Then the car stopped before anyone could say anything else and Bucky looked away to the window beside him.

“Ah, looks like we’re here. Don’t worry, it isn’t anywhere too fancy. I figured you two wouldn’t really be dressed for that.”

Bucky’s confidence seemed to slowly come back as he smirked and got out of the car. Then he held out a hand for MJ, and reached out again for Peter once she was standing. But unlike with MJ, Bucky didn’t let go of Peter’s hand. And Peter didn’t really mind.

☆☆☆

#winterspider #peter parker #Bucky barnes #bucky/peter #mcu #marvel fic #offer of a lifetime #my writing #hello. this was written weeks ago and i only just now posted it #oops

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prorevenge · 5 years ago

Text

CFO can't do math (warning: includes math)

A few years ago I worked for a tech company that was only just keeping its head above water. Most of the staff genuinely believed in the product line and did their best but nothing was ever a standout success. Many ideas were put up to management but often knocked back by the CFO (who we will call Karen) said it would be too expensive or wouldn't get a good return on investment, and many ideas we knew would never work somehow got approved but never achieved anything.

My team was working on a product enhancement we were absolutely convinced would be successful. We had a realistic budget. We had customer feedback showing this was needed and wanted, and firm offers to purchase if it was available. We were convinced our numbers were watertight and put them up to management.

Next product meeting the following week and Karen shoots down every argument we put. Despite the customer feedback, she claims our numbers are wrong and it will lose money. We simply can't understand this as we had been over them many times. We start going through the figures step by step and she keeps telling us we're wrong.

Out of frustration my manager goes to the whiteboard (yeah, we still have one) and walks everybody through the figures step by step. Almost everybody is doing the math themselves on their tablets/phones or on good old fashioned paper and nodding in agreement. Except Karen, who is using a credit card sized calculator that came with her expensive leather binder and keeps saying we are wrong.

My manager suddenly works out what might be happening and asks to have a look at Karen's calculator. He does a few basic calculations and his suspicion is correct. The cheap calculator does not follow the order of operations.

Order of operations is a fundamental set of rules about which calculations to perform first in a mathematical expression. For example 2 + 3 * 4 is read as 2 + (3 * 4), meaning you always do multiplication and division before addition and subtraction. So 2 + 3 * 4 = 14. What Karen's cheap calculator was doing was all operations in the order they were entered and reading 2 + 3 * 4 as (2 + 3) * 4 = 20.

So a room full of people with degrees in computer science, engineering and finance all agree the figures are right, except Karen who is convinced we are wrong because her shitty calculator says so. She maintains we are wrong and our figures don't fit with her way of thinking.

The Revenge

At the end of each month, each team has to submit expenses reports. We are normally quite good at forecasting expenses and any variation is usually something we need to buy at short notice. These are submitted to Karen for approval who then authorizes adjustments in our budgets.

Two engineers who are mathematical geniuses spent most of their coffee and lunch breaks for nearly a whole month madly scribbling down complex calculations. They suggest some very small variations to out planned purchases. Bring a few items forward by a month, push a few items back a month, use a couple of different suppliers for multiples of the same items. Nothing unusual about this as we have a range of ways to buy things at short notice from various suppliers. The whole thing is cost neutral overall but it's a variation that needs to be approved.

Then they prepare the expense report for the manager to submit Karen who demands an explanation. The manager gleefully submits an itemized list of expenses for the month and the next month, and invites Karen to check the figures herself. "Use your calculator," he says. The variation in expenses is very small when calculated properly, but comes out to millions of dollars if done the way Karen's shitty calculator does it. As I said these engineers are mathematical geniuses.

Karen isn't impressed by this and takes it to the CEO. She launches into a tirade about the engineers "forging" expense reports to "embezzle millions from the company". She basically accuses the entire team of fraud. The CEO says he will look into it and comes to see my manager. (This in itself is very unusual as the CEO very rarely leaves his office for things like this. If there are any problems you are usually summoned to see the CEO. The CEO isn't a bad guy, just really busy most of the time.)

We're watching the manager through the glass partition go through a lengthy explanation with the CEO, pointing out figures on the screen and writing on bits of paper. The CEO sits there in silence for a minute taking it all in, then suddenly bursts out laughing to the point of tears rolling down his cheeks.

Then suddenly he's not laughing. He goes back to his office and within a few hours there are a couple of auditors going through some of Karen's financial reports. There are glaring errors which they initially think might be signs of fraud or embezzlement, but eventually they put it down to Karen's shitty calculator. Not fraud, just incompetence.

Karen is summoned to the CEO's office. We don't know exactly what is being said but we can hear the CEO shouting. He never shouts. The result is Karen gets fired, despite STILL maintaining she is right and everybody else is wrong. She has just 1 hour to pack up her desk and leave. She is finally escorted out of the building.

When she gets to her car there is a piece of paper taped to the windshield. It is a picture of Stephen Hawking with the words "YOU MUST BE AT LEAST THIS SMART TO INVENT YOUR OWN BRANCH OF MATHEMATICS".

(source) story by (/u/Pseudonym1234567890)

#prorevenge #by /u/Pseudonym1234567890 #pro revenge #revenge stories #pro revenge stories #pro #revenge #last10

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scullyfemme · 5 years ago

Text

Timing -- Ch. 4

“Would you believe it was supposed to be romantic?”

Scully buries herself in Christmas preparations and Mulder decides to try and distract her from thoughts of last year. Hopefully they can make it home before her mother's Christmas party in the morning.

Tagging @today-in-fic | Read it on Ao3

<- Previous Chapter | Start from the Beginning | Next Chapter ->

---

After carefully tearing up his apartment in search of bugs (and then cleaning everything up at Scully’s behest), Mulder decided to keep the new bed. The two started splitting their time a bit more evenly between their apartments now that Scully could properly sleep at his place, and they rarely ever spent a night apart.

As good as it was going, their relationship wasn’t perfect. One particular week was full of arguments and near-lateness to work after Mulder had accidentally snoozed Scully's alarm on a few separate occasions. Afterwards, she bought two new alarm clocks: one for Mulder to use at her place, and one for her to use at his. It was the sensible thing to do anyway, since she woke up earlier than him and couldn’t risk him turning off her alarm anymore. Mulder offered to pay her back for at least one of the clocks, but she just shrugged it off.

They argued about other things, too. Little things, mostly. Surprisingly, after so many years of working together and being in each others’ spaces so much, there was still a lot of stuff to navigate in this new phase of their relationship. Mulder left hair in the sink. Scully left her shoes wherever she removed them. His fridge was never stocked with anything other than leftover takeout and beer. Her stuff took up too much room in his shower.

But as much as they argued, none of it put their relationship any in real danger. In a strange way, bickering over trivial matters like whose toothbrush was whose (Mulder had two identical ones in his bathroom) lightened their relationship. When two people spend their lives with the weight of the world on their shoulders, the ability to spar over the fact that Scully put his things away in her apartment without telling him where they were (“Why are my ties in your closet?” “Mulder, they’re supposed to be hung up”) or how bad the coffee she owned was (“Mulder, after all the shitty diners we’ve eaten at, I’m surprised you still have any standards for coffee”) felt almost like a weird blessing. A way to remember that under the conspiracies and experiments and edges that had been sharpened over the years, they were still two people. Two humans.

With the events at Area 51 forgotten by everyone involved, their relationship was no longer on the Lone Gunmens’ radar (not that they knew it ever was). Scully’s mother, however, seemed to notice a change in her daughter during a lunch with her. She seemed happier, more easygoing.

“So, how’s work?” Maggie asked, trying to figure out why there was a more jovial air around her daughter all of a sudden.

“Uh,” Dana sighed and seemed to deflate a bit. “Not great. We had to investigate more manure cases this week.” She made a face and toyed with her salad.

Maggie nodded thoughtfully. Not work, then. “How’s Fox?”

Her daughter stiffened almost imperceptibly at that. “Mulder’s fine,” She said, her voice just a bit too high-pitched to be normal. An overshot effort to sound casual.

Maggie eyed her. Ah. “Are you two...still partners?”

“Mhm,” She nodded too emphatically, not even looking at her mother.

Maggie narrowed her eyes, trying to study her daughter for any clues as to what was going on. She knew better than to ask — or even think — that the two of them might be romantically involved. Dana had stated countless times that nothing was going to happen there, and Maggie had given up asking. But still, something was different with her daughter, and she had a feeling Fox was involved.

There was no getting Dana to talk if she didn’t want to, though. Oh well. Best to just wait to see if she would talk on her own.

---

Once December set off, Scully launched herself into full holiday mode. Decorations, presents, cards, church. If it had to do with Christmas, she buried herself in it. Some days she was overly cheery, others she was extremely serious — as if the type of wrapping paper she used for Matthew’s present was a life-or-death situation.

It was strange, coming into her apartment to see her covered in flour for the umpteenth time as she tried out yet another destined-to-fail Christmas cookie recipe. She wasn’t a great baker and seemed to know it, but she kept insisting on trying. Unwilling to fail and determined to make cookies for her mother for whatever reason.

It always went the same. Mulder would lie and say they tasted good. She would chide him for lying to her because she already knew they were awful. She would heave a sigh, dump the cookies in the trash, dust herself off, and start cleaning the kitchen. He would help clean where he could, but mainly stayed out of her way. And she would try again tomorrow, or whenever she was free.

Frightening as it was to see her like this, Mulder knew what she was doing. It had been a year since the events involving Emily. Scully was trying to put it out of her mind, trying to bury the bad memories with busywork and fake Christmas cheer. He didn’t want to pry her about it; dredging it up wouldn’t help her now. If she wanted to forget, he would help her forget. So he went along with her for nearly everything else, too. Present-shopping, decorating her apartment. He even offered to go to church with her at one point, but she thought he was joking and insisted on going alone.

He wanted to do more for her, though. Maybe a date. A unique one. Not an X-File, or at least not anything resembling a case. She wouldn’t want to work one so close to Christmas and she would no doubt bring up the fact that they weren't working X-Files anymore. Maybe something X-Files-adjacent, though. Not a full case, but more like...an attraction. A field trip.

Maybe there was a haunted house in the area.

---

Mulder always felt out of place in the department store. It wasn’t because he felt awkward tailing Scully while she shopped for her last few gifts. In fact, it was quite the opposite. He was happy to follow her around and he had fun giving unwanted input on gifts for family members he’d never heard of. He could tell it amused her too.5hh

No, he felt out of place because it always seemed like every other man here looked like they’d rather die than be gift shopping with their significant others. They trudged along behind their wives and girlfriends and merely shrugged when asked for input on items. It was especially worse today, on Christmas Eve. No one seemed to be enjoying their last-minute shopping.

He supposed he should give the other men the benefit of the doubt, but then a few of them would try to exchange knowing looks with Mulder over what they interpreted as a shared negative experience. Shackled to the old ball-and-chain while she shops. He simply shot them a confused look and then leaned over to point out to Scully that blue throw pillows would probably look better with Cousin Lucy’s living room set.

“Mulder, you’ve never even met Lucy.”

“No, but I can see her living room in my mind’s eye.” There was a gleam in his eye. “It’s, uh, it’s nautical-themed. Little decorative anchors on the walls and those, uh, those clear vases full of sand and seashells. So...blue.”

She eyed him humorously. “Mulder, Lucy is afraid of the ocean. I can assure you that nothing in her house is nautical-themed.”

“Oh.” He grinned good-naturedly. “Then go with the red ones.”

A half-hour later, they had moved on to the kitchenware section of the store.

“Hey, Scully,” Mulder started off cautiously as he watched her pore over two pans — one silver and one copper. She'd already gotten three things for her mom, but she’d noticed the sale on pans and commented how her mother needed a new one. “How do you feel about a...little field trip later?”

“Hm?” She didn’t look up from the items and it was apparent that she wasn’t listening. After a moment, though, the question seemed to register in her mind and she looked up. “What do you mean, ‘field trip?’”

He hesitated, then took the silver pan from her left hand. “Your mom’ll like this one better. It matches the rest of her stuff.” He turned on his heel and walked away.

“Mulder, what field trip?” She put the other pan down and followed him out of the kitchen section. “It’s Christmas Eve, this better not be some X-Files goose chase. And how do you know what my mom’s kitchenware looks like?”

“I’ve been to her house before, haven’t I?” He stopped and turned to face her. “And it’s not an X-File, it’s… Well…” He tilted his head and grimaced.

“It is an X-File.” She knew what that grimace meant.

“Not a case. Just...phenomena.”

“Phenomena,” she repeated, reluctance on her face. “Mulder…”

“Look, we’re almost done here, right?” He straightened up, gesturing to the multiple items they were both holding. “Just a few more gifts, and then we’re good to go. The night’s still young and we’ll be there and back within plenty of time.”

She shook her head. “Mulder...I’ve-I’ve still got to wrap all this.”

“I’ll help you wrap.”

“It’s too far away.”

“You don’t even know where it is.”

“Well, where is it?”

“Only an hour’s drive.”

She licked her lips in thought and he knew he was close to winning.

“We’ve got family roll under the tree at six in the morning,” she argued. “For my mom’s Christmas party, remember? The one you didn’t even tell me you were going to?”

He smiled. Her mother had invited him over for Christmas nearly every year since they’d started working together. This was just the first year he’d accepted.

“Like I said, we’ll be there and back in plenty of time. C’mon, Scully, it’ll be fun.”

She glowered at him — the one that meant he'd won but she didn't want to admit it yet — then pushed past him to make her way to the candle section, where she started browsing. He followed her and stood right behind her, nearly touching her. Too close for her not to notice his presence. She ignored him though, pretending that the weird candle names were fascinating full-length novels.

After a few moments, she heaved another sigh and rounded on him, then nearly backed into the candle display when she realized just how close he was.

“Mulder-” She pressed a hand to his chest and pushed him back a bit, giving herself space. “What kind of phenomena are you even talking about?”

He gave her a toothy grin. “Have you heard the Tale of the Star-Crossed Lovers?”

---

“‘Cause you’re a lonely man,” the old man said to Mulder. “A lonely man chasing paramasturbatory illusions that you believe will give your life meaning and significance and which your pathetic social maladjustment makes impossible for you to find elsewhere. You probably consider yourself passionate, serious, misunderstood. Am I right?”

Mulder blinked. “‘Paramasturbatory?’”

“Most people would rather stick their fingers in a wall socket than spend a minute with you.”

Ouch. “Alright now, just uh...” Mulder held up his hands to stop the man. Who did he think he was? “Just back off for a second.”

The man didn’t back off, though. “Spend every Christmas this way? Alone?”

Ha. That was where he was wrong. “I’m not alone.” Mulder raised his chin in confidence.

The old man looked around at the room that was otherwise empty besides the two of them. “More self-delusions.”

“No, I came here with my partner. She’s somewhere in the house.”

“Behind a brick wall?” The man gestured towards the brick wall.

Mulder smiled and nodded.

“How’d you get her to come with you? Steal her car keys?”

His smile turned confused. “No, I asked if she wanted to come.”

“Did you ask her or did you pester her until she gave in?”

The smile dropped from his face.

“You know why you do it.” The old man shook his head as if disappointed in him. “Listen endlessly to her droning rationalizations. ‘Cause you’re afraid. Afraid of the loneliness. Am I right?”

Was he? It was getting harder and harder to dismiss the man’s analysis. He pushed the thought out of his mind.

After a moment, he finally spoke. “I’d just like to find my partner.”

---

“Oh, you poor child.” The old woman clutched her robe closed around her neck and stepped towards Scully. “You must have an awful small life. Spending your Christmas Eve with him. Running around chasing things you don’t even believe in.”

“Don’t come any closer.” Scully’s gun shook in her hand. Whoever this woman was, she was suspicious. And she certainly didn’t need pity from some old woman who didn’t know her.

The woman ignored her, stepping closer anyway. “I can see it in your face. The fear. The conflicted yearnings. A subconscious desire to find fulfillment through another.” She took another step. “Intimacy through co-dependency.”

“What?” Scully’s panic gave way to incredulity. What the hell was she talking about? Intimacy through what? Conflicted yearnings?

“Maybe you repress the truth about why you’re really here,” the old woman continued. “Pretending it’s out of duty or loyalty. Unable to admit your dirty little secret.”

Scully tensed. Dirty little secret?

“Your only joy in life is proving him wrong.”

---

“Do you realize how seriously disturbed that man is?” The old man asked. “How dark and lonely? What he's capable of?”

Scully simply blinked at him, unsure how to respond. This man was crazy. Mulder wasn’t dark and lonely, despite how much he might think of himself as such. Hell, only a couple of hours ago he was helping her pick out a new pan for her mother in a department store. Mulder may be spooky — and a little out there — but he was far from disturbed.

Someone pounded at the door. “Scully?”

“Mulder!” She started towards the door.

“Did he happen to mention a story about a lovers’ pact?” The man asked.

Scully froze. Mulder had told her the story. But surely he hadn’t brought her here for reasons like that. This was just some...eccentric Christmas Eve X-Files date, or something.

Right?

“The man is acting out an unconscious yearning,” the old man continued. “The deep-seated terror of being alone.”

“Scully!” Mulder’s voice sounded from the other side of the door again. “Scully, are you there?”

“I’m here, Mulder!” She called out, keeping her gun trained on the old man.

“Open the door, Scully!”

“Open the door,” she commanded.

The old man reluctantly obliged. Mulder entered, gun at the ready. “Where’s Scully?”

“Mulder?” She couldn’t help the flood of relief at seeing him.

But then he turned and fired his gun at her.

Scully flinched as the bullet missed her by a mile. Shaking with panic, she aimed her gun at him despite the fact that she knew she wouldn’t shoot him. “Mulder, what are you doing?”

He fired again, missing her. He wasn’t normally this bad a shot, but she was freaking out too much to really register that.

“Mulder!”

“There’s no getting out of here, Scully.” He had a deranged look in his eyes. “There’s no way home.” He shot again, hitting the wall behind her.

“Mulder, come on,” She moved sideways across the room to make herself a more difficult target. He stepped towards her. “Mulder, you’re scaring me. Put the gun down!”

“You gonna shoot me?!” He shouted.

“I’m not gonna shoot you! I don’t wanna shoot you!” She shouted back, trembling. Did he really think she would shoot him? What the hell was wrong with him?

“It’s me or you,” he ranted maniacally. “You or me. One of us has to do it.”

“Neither of us has to do it,” she countered. “Just- Just put the gun down!”

He ignored her, instead focusing his aim.

“Wait!” She tried to calm her breathing. “Look,” Scully took her finger off the trigger and put her hands up in surrender, gun pointed away from him. When she spoke again, it was with a calmer voice. “Please, Mulder. I’m not gonna shoot you. I’m putting my gun down, see?” She started to lower her weapon. “This isn’t you, Mulder. Please, you have to trust me. You have to snap out of...whatever this is.”

A confused look flashed across Mulder’s face and he lowered his weapon a bit, glancing over at the old man.

“Mulder.” She holstered her gun and took a step towards him. He watched her warily, looking almost like a caged animal. Another couple of steps and she was able to put her hand on his wrist, lowering it even more. She searched his face for any sign that he was coming to his senses.

Mulder glanced down at where her hand lingered on his wrist and she pulled it away self-consciously. He looked back up at her. “Scully…do you love me?”

She blinked in surprise. “What?”

“I love you,” he said, moving closer to her.

Scully backed away. “Mulder, what are you doing?” This wasn't like him. She couldn’t help glancing at the old man again, who looked particularly interested in what was going on.

Mulder’s hand on her shoulder brought her attention back to him. He leaned down.

“Mulder-”

She was interrupted by the feeling of his gun pressed into her stomach.

“Merry Christmas, Scully.”

CRACK

---

Mulder stumbled down the stairs, unsure how he was able to move when he was in so much pain. At the bottom, he noticed a trail of blood in the foyer. He collapsed onto the floor and started crawling pathetically, following the trail. Around the corner, he spotted Scully crawling towards the front door in a similar fashion.

“Scully?” His voice was strained.

She flinched, then slowly, painfully rolled over and pointed her gun at him. Was she really going to shoot him again? He grunted and managed to pull out his own gun despite the fact he knew he could never shoot her.

They stayed in their stalemate for a few moments before Scully lowered her weapon with a groan and fell back on the floor. “Ah...I’m not gonna make it,” she said.

“You should have thought of this.”

“You should have,” she countered.

“You shot me first!”

“I never shot you, you shot me!”

Mulder blinked. He never shot her. Why did she think he shot her? And she was claiming she’d never shot him.

It hit him. Lyda and Maurice. It was another trick. Of course it was.

As if undoing some spell, Mulder realized he wasn’t actually bleeding. He wasn’t actually shot, he wasn’t in any pain. It wasn't real.

“Scully,” He rolled over and stood up, feeling considerably light. He grinned. “Get up.”

She scoffed, obviously thinking he was crazy. “I can’t.”

“Get up.” He moved towards her and showed her how he was fine. “You’re not shot.”

She looked up at him with disbelief. “What?”

“Come on, it’s a trick. It’s all in your head.” He reached down and helped her up. Once standing, she started patting at her abdomen in search of the bullet wound. She looked up at him in alarm, and they both glanced back towards the inside of the house as their hands sought each other and they took off through the front door. They escaped from the haunted house hand in hand, only pulling apart to get in his car and drive away in a panic.

“Maybe it was a hallucination,” Scully said, her brain whirring at high speeds to search for an explanation. “Some sort of chemical could have been in that fog.”

“What kind of hallucinogen wears off once you realize it’s not real?” He countered.

She opened her mouth to argue, then closed it when she couldn’t think of one. “Then it was, uh... It was all in our heads, I don’t know! But whatever happened in there, you owe me for it.”

“Owe you? You shot me!” He joked.

“No I didn’t, and besides, you shot me first!”

“I never shot you.”

“Well, you dragged me out here in the first place.”

“Well, I-” He stopped and glanced over at her. “Would you believe it was supposed to be romantic?”

She chuckled, feeling a bit giddy from the adrenaline. “From you? I’d believe it.”

He smiled to himself.

She sighed and leaned back in her seat, feeling her heart rate ease up a bit. “Only you would see a haunted house with stories about multiple couples killing themselves in it and think of it as a romantic destination.”

He chuckled. “Are you saying you didn’t find it romantic?”

“Mulder, you shot me.”

“I told you, that wasn’t me!” He grinned.

“Well, I still thought it was at the time. And I wouldn't call it a pleasant experience.”

“I would never shoot you, Scully.”

“How romantic.”

“Of course, I know you can’t say the same since you’ve shot me before.”

“You were about to kill a man!” She argued. “I shot you to protect you.”

“Yeah, and then you dragged me out to New Mexico and I got blown up.”

“You lived, didn’t you?”

He laughed. Whatever had happened in there, they were alive. And her mind certainly seemed to be occupied with something other than last year's Christmas. Maybe a near-death experience wasn't the best replacement, but at least it was something.

Scully checked the time. “God, it’s already past midnight.” She sighed and let her head fall back against the seat again.

“It is?” He glanced over at her and saw that her eyes were closed.

She nodded tiredly.

“Well...Merry Christmas.”

Her eyes snapped open in realization and she looked over at him with a small smile. “Merry Christmas, Mulder.”

---

They made it back to her apartment in one piece and were up for another hour wrapping presents. When they were done, they trudged to bed, falling asleep almost immediately. When her alarm went off too soon, they both groaned, having only gotten a few hours' sleep. Somehow, though, they managed to get up and make it to her mother's.

Christmas with the Scullys was more fun than Mulder had imagined it would be. He found himself wishing that he’d taken Mrs. Scully up on her invitation years ago.

The 6am roll call was only for immediate family, apparently. With Melissa gone and Charles off closing deals in Europe, this meant that it was just Scully, her mother, Bill Jr., and his wife and kid. And Mulder.

“Fox!” Mrs. Scully pulled him in for a warm hug as she answered the door. “So glad you could come.”

“Sorry, which one of us is your kid?” Scully poked her head out from behind him.

“Oh, Dana,” Her mother jokingly chastised her before also pulling her in for a hug. “He was just the first one to walk in, is all.”

“Mhm.”

“Come in, come in,” Mrs. Scully quickly took the bags of presents from the couple without giving them an opportunity to object. She led them into the living room, where Bill and Tara were already sitting on the couch. Bill shook Mulder’s hand with a stiff smile and Scully wondered if her mother had lectured him about being nice before they'd arrived.

Without much preamble and small-talk, they opened presents. Scully had gotten Mulder Resident Evil 2 (“Langly told me you liked the first one” "You'd like it too, Scully. It's horror") and he’d gotten her the bottle of perfume that she’d always sampled whenever they were out shopping at the mall for presents.

“Perfume?” Bill asked, sounding unimpressed.

“I love it.” She gave her brother a pointed look before smiling gratefully at Mulder. She’d half-expected him to get her something obscure like that keychain from a few years back. “I wanted this one.”

Bill didn’t make any more comments after that.

At eight, the cousins and family friends started pouring in. Mulder was flabbergasted. He knew Scully’s family was Irish Catholic, but he’d never fully registered how that would apply to her extended family as well. He supposed he should have, considering how many presents he’d helped her buy for cousins. It was hectic and impossible to keep up with names, so he avoided using them. He stuck to Scully’s side like a burr, letting her navigate them through the party.

“I’m sorry, what did you say your name was?” A man asked.

“Fox Mulder.”

“Fox? That’s an interesting name. And how do you two know each other?”

“Oh, we’re p- We work together,” He said, not wanting to cause any confusion.

“Ohh,” The man nodded. “At the...CIA?”

“FBI,” Scully corrected, evidently not very close to this particular cousin. Was he even a cousin? Mulder had no idea who was related to her and who wasn’t.

A woman — another cousin? — who had overheard their conversation leaned in to join them. “And are you two...together?” She asked curiously.

Scully’s cheeks turned ever-so-slightly pink. “No.”

“No, we’re just good friends.” Mulder took over, slinging a friendly arm around her shoulders. “I mean, after being partners for over five years, you either hate each other or you’re best friends, am I right?”

The other two both laughed and Scully gave a little chuckle too, looking more relaxed. They continued their conversation, but Mulder didn’t remove his arm from her shoulders. After a while, Scully realized that she had been leaning comfortably into Mulder’s side for who knows how long and quickly straightened up, slipping out of his grasp and excusing herself to go to the kitchen and get some eggnog. She ducked her head in hopes of hiding how red her face must be.

Alone in the kitchen, she braced herself on the counter and took a deep breath, trying to calm down. It was stupid of her to panic like this, but she couldn’t help it. This was their first time out somewhere like this after getting together, but they couldn’t even act like a couple. It was too easy to relax with Mulder, and it was too fun being at a party with him. She was being too obvious and people were going to figure out they were together.

But on the other hand, it would be nice if they could actually act like a couple at this party. Would it really be the worst thing in the world if people knew? Keeping it a secret at work made sense, but it felt different at her mother's house in front of friends and family.

“Dana?” Her mother’s voice shook her from her thoughts. She was standing in the doorway with a concerned look on her face. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, Mom, I’m fine,” She said, quickly straightening up and grabbing a cup.

“Sorry,” her mother said. “I just...noticed you left that conversation with Michael and Hannah pretty quickly. I was worried they said something to upset you.”

“Nope,” Scully smiled — a bit too widely. “Just getting some eggnog." She grabbed a second cup.

“For you and Fox?”

Scully stiffened ever so slightly. Was her mother implying something? Or was she just being paranoid? “Yeah, he wanted some too.” She tried to sound casual.

Her mother seemed like she wanted to say something but apparently dropped it, instead moving over to give her daughter a comforting pat on the shoulders. “Okay, honey.” She smiled. “I’ll see you back out there, okay?”

Scully nodded, not meeting her mother’s gaze. After she was gone, Scully leaned on the counter again. Was her mother suspicious of them? Was anyone else? Why was this so stressful? All she wanted to do was relax, to be casual and have fun with him in this setting, but she didn’t know how to do that.

After another bracing breath, Scully picked up both cups and headed out of the kitchen. She almost ran into Mulder in the doorway.

“Oh!” She yanked the cups back with a grimace until she realized they hadn’t spilled, then let out a sigh of relief.

Mulder, who had also pulled back to avoid an accident, leaned forward a bit. “Sorry, Scully. I was just checking on you. You left pretty suddenly.”

She nodded. “I’m okay, I just-”

“Mistletoe!” Someone shouted, interrupting her. Nearly everyone’s attention turned to them. Scully’s eyes widened and her face burned as her gaze slowly rose up. Sure enough, there was some mistletoe hanging above them in the doorway. Shit.

“You guys gotta kiss!” Someone else shouted in a heavy Boston accent.

“N-No,” They both started protesting, then Scully’s mother appeared out of nowhere and whisked away the two cups Scully had been holding.

“Mom!”

“Sorry, Dana, rules are rules.” Her mother gave a fake sympathetic smile.

“She’s not sorry at all,” Scully muttered, half-believing that her mother had planned this somehow. Various people were shouting for them to kiss now.

“I don’t think we’re gonna get out of this, Scully,” Mulder said out of the side of his mouth.

She heaved a sigh, her hands on her hips, then gave him a quick nod of assent. Needing no more permission, he stooped down and pressed his lips to hers in a chaste kiss. More chaste than most of theirs had been since the very first. It was still nice, though, and Scully had to dig her fingers into her own hips to prevent herself from reaching out to him instinctively. She had a feeling he was having the same struggle.

They broke apart to the sounds of whoops and cheers, their eyes lingering on each others’ for just a moment before they turned back to face the party, their facades back in place.

Everyone quickly went back to whatever they had been doing before the interruption (Bill took the time to stare daggers at Mulder for a few more moments) and Scully’s mother handed them back their drinks. Scully couldn’t down her eggnog fast enough, grateful for the alcohol in it.

---

Maggie Scully studied her daughter and Fox throughout the day, only half-listening to conversations with family and friends. She noticed subtle differences from how she’d seen them act before. Dana would grab Fox’s arm to lead him to the next conversation, but her hand would linger longer than it needed to, her thumb even lightly rubbing his arm. He would bend down to whisper in her ear a lot, his mouth closer than it needed to be, and Dana always smiled at whatever he said. And above everything else, they stuck extraordinarily close to each other the whole time. Even if Fox looked like he was fully engaged in a conversation with someone, he would quickly follow Dana if she moved away.

Maggie smiled to herself and let out a little hum, certain that something was going on between those two. For now, she was satisfied with that much knowledge. She’d give Dana as long as she needed to tell her about it.

At one point, Matthew came charging into the room with the unstoppable momentum of a toddler who had recently figured out walking. Scully caught him easily, using his momentum to swing him up in the air before landing him squarely on her hip. “Where do you think you’re going?” She teased her nephew with a grin.

Matthew just laughed and clapped his hands in the way babies do.

“Are you trying to find your mama?” Scully asked, turning to look around the room. When she couldn’t find Bill or Tara, she turned to Mulder with a questioning look. He also did a sweep of the room — hoping his height would give him more insight — and then shrugged.

“Well,” Scully carried Matthew over to the couch and sat down, holding him on her lap. “We’re just gonna have to wait right here for them.”

Mulder sat down next to her and watched as she entertained the baby with faces and little games. She was like a completely different person around kids, and he couldn’t help smiling fondly as he watched her.

It also broke his heart, though. Knowing what had been done to her. What had been taken from her. He knew he had to tell her about the vial of her ova, and soon. He’d put it off too long already and she deserved to know.

But not today. He wasn’t going to let her have two ruined Christmases in a row.

After a while, he realized one of Matthew’s toys was on the coffee table in front of him. He grabbed it, offering it up to the boy and then pulling away, which made the baby squeal in entertainment. Mulder played this game with him for a while, not noticing the smile of adoration that Scully was giving him.

Across the room, Maggie looked on at the sight of the two of them with the baby and couldn’t help thinking how much it suited them.

---

After Bill and Tara returned (they had stepped out to get more ice) and Matthew was handed off, Mulder and Scully returned to mingling. She drank more eggnog than he thought her small frame would allow, and by the end of the day she was leaning against him and hugging his arm without a care in the world for who saw, smiling and blinking slowly at whatever a family friend was saying.

Dinner was a buffet-style potluck, and the food in her stomach seemed to sober her up some, but she was still visibly tipsy if not drunk. Afterwards, Mulder kept his arm around her — more to keep her upright than anything else.

“FBI, huh?” Someone asked. “Do you guys get any interesting cases?”

Scully gave an exaggerated frown. “Well, last night we went ghostbusting.” Her chin ducked down and then back up. “But that wasn’t an official case.”

“Ghostbusting?”

“Well, they weren’t really ghosts of course,” She said emphatically, and Mulder couldn’t help smiling at how insistent she was, even in an inebriated state. “Mulder probably thinks they were.” She tapped her head against his chest. “But I know” — she pointed at herself — “that it was just...a hallucination or something. Brought on by the...the creepy atmosphere and our heightened senses of-of panic.”

“...Oh.” The man looked visibly confused by what she was saying. “So...what exactly were you guys doing ghostbusting on Christmas Eve?”

---

After the party was over, Mulder guided a still-tipsy Scully to the car, helping her buckle in before getting in the driver’s side, then waved a final goodbye to her mother.

As he started the car and drove off, Scully smiled lazily at him, her head resting against the seat. “Thanks for today, Mulder. I had a lot more fun than I usually do.”

“I like your family,” He said. “Most of them. I never really, uh...got the whole family thing. Especially not after Samantha disappeared.”

She pouted. “I’m sorry.”

He chuckled. “It’s okay. Today was fun to experience. Even if it was a one-time-only thing.”

“What makes you think it’ll be one-time only?” She asked. “My mom’s definitely gonna invite you again next year.”

Mulder smiled at the thought. He hadn’t considered next year. Or the year after. He let himself indulge for a moment, imagining a future where he and Scully were happy. Staying together, attending her mother’s Christmas parties every year. Their situation was still hard for him to believe; he kept waking up expecting to find that it had been a dream, or that she’d changed her mind, only to see her sleeping soundly, pressed close to him. Or already awake and watching him with an adoring look that she only used when she thought he couldn't see.

“I really- I really do love you, Mulder,” Scully spoke up after a while, as if reading his thoughts and knowing his insecurities.

He laughed. “You’re drunk.”

“No,” She lifted her head off the seat and glared at him comically. “I’m not drunk, I’m just enjoying myself. And you’re the best…” She waved her hand dismissively a few times. “Partner, boyfriend, whatever.”

He grimaced. “I think I like partner better than boyfriend.” He wasn't too fond of partner, either. It fit them in a professional sense, but not outside of that.

“Mmm, but partner doesn’t feel right either,” She seemed to voice his thoughts as she pouted again, leaning back against the headrest.

“Then what does?”

She was silent for a few moments, then shrugged. “I dunno. You’re just...Mulder.”

He nodded, knowing what she meant. Of all the ways to describe their relationship, of all the words to label what they were to each other, his brain often just kept coming back to Scully. That was what she was to him.

“‘Mulder’ isn’t exactly a label you can use to introduce me to people, though,” he joked.

“Mm.” She hummed in acknowledgment and was silent for a moment. Then she sat forward a bit, eyes wide in realization. “Mulder, was I clinging to you a lot tonight?”

He hesitated, which was enough of an answer for her.

“Ohh,” she put her head in her hands. “D’ya think anyone noticed?”

A lot of people definitely noticed, but he didn't want to tell her that. “Well…I think your mom is suspicious.”

“Well, she's been suspicious since she first met you.”

“Yeah?”

She nodded, her face still hidden.

“Bill might've figured it out, too,” he added.

“Bill?!” She looked up at him, then flopped back in her seat. “Nuh-uh. If Bill knew, you wouldn't be alive.”

---

As soon as they got into her apartment, Scully threw her arms around him and planted a kiss on his lips. She’d managed to sober up a bit more during the drive home and had gone from quite tipsy to just tipsy. Mulder pulled away, his hands planted squarely on her shoulders. She pouted, looking sad that he’d pulled away. God, he wished she wouldn't do that. It made it harder to stay away.

“What do you want? You want some water?” He asked, turning his head towards the kitchen.

“Noo.” She toyed with the buttons on his shirt and looked up at him through her lashes. Her intent was very clear.

His breath hitched and he had to clear his throat. He took her hand and pulled it away from his shirt. “I think you need some water and some sleep.”

“Mulderrrr.” She tried to move closer to him, but his hand on her shoulder kept her at arm’s length. She pouted again. Jesus.

“I don’t take advantage of drunk women,” he said.

“I’m not drunk anymore, Mulder, I told you.” She stood up straight as if that proved it. “And I’m not some random girl you found in a bar, we’re already sleeping together.”

“Scully-”

“Mulder, I'm not drunk. I’m just a little tipsy. I’m still aware of my actions and what I’m saying. And I'm very horny.”

Warmth pooled in his stomach at the way she said that, and he was distracted enough that she managed to slip out of his grip and pull him down for a deep kiss, pushing him backwards towards the bedroom and shedding various items of both their clothes on the way there.

It was a very merry Christmas.

---

Weeks later, Mulder drove them both back from Roanoke after finishing the demon baby case. Scully sat in the passenger seat, flipping through the case file and her notes and muttering how it didn’t make sense. She'd already lectured him multiple times on how a woman who's recently given birth couldn't possibly have moved around as much or done as much as Betsy supposedly had, to which he’d just shrugged and said that Betsy wasn’t human. Which, of course, wasn’t an acceptable answer for her.

“Hey, Scully?” He asked, his heartbeat quickening with nerves.

“Hm?” She licked her lips as she continued looking through the file, not really paying attention to him.

“Remember, uh, last December? When I said why your- How the men who abducted you- Um…” He cursed himself for not practicing this.

She looked up from the file, giving him her full attention now. “How they extracted my ova,” she said bluntly. “Yeah.”

“I, uh…” He sighed. “Scully, there’s something I didn’t tell you.” He glanced over at her, then returned his attention to the road. “The men who were in charge of the lab...one of them let me take a vial of yours.”

“What?” Scully’s voice was quiet with disbelief. “You have them? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Well, I...I took them directly to a specialist who would tell me if they were okay,” He explained, suddenly wishing he hadn’t started this conversation while driving. This wasn't a car conversation.

“I don’t believe this.”

“Scully, you were...you were deathly ill. And I couldn’t bear to give you another piece of bad news.” He looked over at her and saw the pain and fear in her eyes.

“Is that what it was? Bad news?”

His lips pressed together grimly. “They… They said the ova weren't viable.”

She only stared at him, either too stunned or too upset to say anything.

“I-I know I should have told you sooner, Scully,” He said, wanting to apologize, to explain. “I just- You were dying, and then you were in remission and I didn’t want to risk your recovery. And then…” He sighed. “It was just never a good time. It still isn’t.”

“There’s not really a perfect time for this sort of news, Mulder,” she said bitterly.

“I know.” He glanced over at her so she could see his regret. “I’m really sorry, Scully.”

She nodded, looking more downtrodden by the news than mad at him. She put her face in her hands, hiding her emotions even from him, and stayed like that for a few minutes. He didn’t bother her, not wanting to invade her privacy. This really wasn't a car conversation.

After a while, she lifted her head. He could see the gears turning in her mind. She let out a slow, calculated sigh and he knew what she was going to say before she said it. Scully was ever the scientist.

“I want a second opinion.”

He nodded silently, eyes on the road. He didn’t tell her that he did get a second opinion. And a third. And a fourth. After she’d gone into remission, he was desperate to give her more good news. But after consulting nearly every specialist in the city, he gave up. But he knew Scully wanted to find the answers herself, and he wasn’t going to get in the way of that.

Next Chapter ->

#kai.fic #xf fic #msr fic #timing fic #i'm posting this at 2am bc i was determined to post it on or before christmas dsjgkads

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maknaesdancersrappers · 6 years ago

Text

Attempt #1: Tell it to them straight

wc: 1,826

<<prologue

The mini gathering for your birthday was almost dying down after eating dinner everyone worked on together prior the surprise, a couple of movies, and a handful of group games like monopoly and charades. For most of the night, you had been juggling entertaining Jaehyun whenever he tries to catch your attention and Taeyong, just to make sure he’s not out of place.

You ran into him in the mall and when you introduced him to your mom, she immediately suggested to have him come over for dinner that really confused you but Taeyong didn’t seem to be fazed about it and agreed when you asked him. It only made sense when your friends surprised you that your mom was inviting Taeyong to the party and when you quickly asked Taeyong if he knew, he said Jangmi might have let it slip to him the other day.

You didn’t even know they knew each other.

Jaehyun, on the other hand, was becoming slightly annoyed at how you kept changing your attention from him to Taeyong that Jangmi had to divert Taeyong’s attention away sometimes so your attention on Jaehyun wouldn’t be so divided.

Halfway through a movie while Jangmi was coming back from the bathroom and Jaehyun was refilling their popcorn bowls for everyone, she approaches him as inconspicuous as possible to avoid anyone noticing.

“You’re starting to look jealous and a little possessive.”

Jaehyun grimaces, “I am not.”

“Look, just tell her as soon as you can once we all leave. If you want, I can leave after this movie and maybe I can get Taeyong to leave as well, like, start a chain reaction so you can finally tell her.”

“Would you really? But wait, what am I going to do and say?”

Jangmi exhales, rolling her eyes, “I’m not the one in love with her to tell you what to say. Just end your misery, Jaehyun. Just tell it to her straight.”

She takes one of the bowls he’s already replenished and pats his back, “You got this, man.”

After the movie ended and a quick discussion about the plot and characters, Jangmi nods at Jaehyun before announcing, “Hey, my brother is home alone so I should probably head back now. Happy birthday again, [Y/N].”

You’re genuinely upset that she’s leaving because despite the fact she’s the girl Jaehyun likes, you’re starting to understand why. She’s fun to be with, but also taking the role of being the ‘mom’ friend of the group. “You can bring him some cake! There’s a lot left over. Let me prepare it for you.”

“It’s getting late, I’ll take you home.” Taeyong quietly says, rising up from his seat.

Once you had packed a slice of cake in some disposable tupperware for Jangmi’s brother, you walk them out after they waved the others goodbye. “Do you live near each other?”

Jangmi glances up at Taeyong, “Our apartment complexes are in front of each other.”

“Oh, well, you guys take care! Thanks for coming.” After you see them off, the rest start leaving as well; except Jaehyun and the twins who helped clean up the place. When you assured the twins they could leave, you were left alone with Jaehyun just like always.

He’s smiling at you with his lips pursed, standing in the middle of the room looking almost anxious as he waits for you.

“You okay?”

“Do you want your present now?”

“A present? The party wasn’t it?” You feigned innocence, gesturing to the now cleared out living room. “Jae, you shouldn’t have.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “It’s in your room. Come on.”

You let him take your hand, trying not to make a big deal out of it, “You were in my room? Jaehyun! How dare you!”

“It’s not like I haven’t let myself in before.” He shrugs, opening the door to your room and leading you to the middle of the room. “I hope you didn’t buy anything similar to this.”

“What is it?” You watch him round the corner of your bed and kneel down to get something from below, instantly your blood goes cold: did he see the gift Yebin get you last year?

“Close your eyes!”

You do as you’re told, putting your palms over your eyes and patiently wait. You could hear his soft footsteps padding closer to you before he clears his throat.

“Happy birthday!”

You pull your hands away and look down at his hands, eyeing the peach-colored wrapped box. “What is it?”

Jaehyun motions for you to sit down, “Open it.”

Both of you sit on the edge of your bed. He places the gift on your lap before you begin picking at the tape that held the wrapper together. “Why am I nervous?” You laugh at how your fingers were shaking.

“I’m nervous, too! What if someone got you a similar gift or maybe you it for yourself?”

“I haven’t gotten myself a gift and everyone else’s gifts are in the living roo-” You finally peeled back the cute paper off and gasp at the familiar logo that peeks beneath it. “No, you didn’t… Jae - this has got to be a prank.”

With the wrapping now completely off, you stare down at the camera box in your hands. It was heavy - just like how a regular camera would weigh, but; “What is this, really?”

Jaehyun laughs, “What do you think it is? Can’t you read? It’s a camera!”

“It can’t be! This is expensive! How did you even afford this?” You start opening the box with utmost care. This was one of the new releases of the camera brand you were comfortable using and you were very aware of it’s price. “Where did you get the money to pay for this?”

“Savings, a few part time jobs, mostly loaned from my dad.” He sounds a little regretful at the last words, “But don’t worry about that. Do you like it?”

“Like it?” You cried, “Jaehyun, I love it! This is way too much!”

“You told me about that photography workshop you’re attending this summer and I thought I’d give you a new camera after I saw you browsing for a new one the other week.”

You were. You desperately needed a new camera so while you waited for Jaehyun after his basketball practice, you had multiple tabs open on your laptop to canvas for something you can afford and he had probably seen it over your shoulder. “I don’t think saying thank you is enough.”

“If you’re happy with it, then that’s enough.”

You spring up to your feet after moving the box off and walk over to your desk with camera in hand. You pop a spare SD card into it and turn it on, removing the lens cap from it and pointing it towards Jaehyun. “Smile!”

He puts a ‘V’ sign up with his fingers and flashes a grin before you press on the shutter button and take his photo.

“How is it?”

“Beautiful - ugh! It’s amazing.” You sigh while checking the photo you just took.

“Thanks.” Jaehyun jokes, clicking his tongue as he stands up, “I’d like to thank my parents for my genes.”

Rolling your eyes, you turn the camera off and set it down on your desk. As you turn back to Jaehyun, you throw your arms around his shoulders. “You’re the best, Jae. I love you so much.”

Both of you are thankful that you don’t see each other’s faces after those last five words. Jaehyun is suddenly reminded to confess to you while you’re trying to continue the sentence to make it nonchalant.

“What did I do in my past life to deserve you?”

His hands are running up and down your back to reciprocate the hug before he starts pulling away and clearing his throat. “[Y/N]... listen, I…”

Your heart drops, you feel like an idiot. He has feeling for someone else and here you are throwing yourself at him like this even though you meant it in a platonic way. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have…”

Jaehyun frowns at you, “What? No, [Y/N], wait-”

The doorbell rings and you quickly excuse yourself to get it, nevertheless he follows you out. It was his mom, ruefully telling him about how the puppy made a mess in their hallways, and as they had agreed upon, Jaehyun is in charge of cleaning up after it.

He cusses under his breath, just quiet enough so his mom wouldn’t hear, “Okay, I’ll go clean it up.”

His mom greets you with a sweet smile, leaning over to give you a hug as Jaehyun dejectedly walks out. They both wish you a good night and the last thing you see is Jaehyun looking regretful.

“I messed it up; I think I sounded like I was going to reject her.” Jaehyun whines as he scrubs the part of the floor his puppy pooped on with a call with Jangmi (and Minkyung, since he interrupted their own phone call) on speaker. “Should I just call her now or text her?”

“No, you idiot! Don’t you dare confess via phone. You need to do that face to face.” Jangmi scolds. “Oh, I bet she’s hurt right now.”

“Jang!”

“I’m stating facts! Look, just try again tomorrow. Before you guys head out for school, just stop her and tell her you love her.”

Minkyung cuts in, “What? That’s it? After the shitty emotions he put her through? Jae, you better confess in a grand manner. Think bouquets! Doves! Fireworks!”

“I just spent over a thousand dollars for her gift, I don’t think I can even afford her a rose if I wanted.”

“Nothing extreme. Build up simple little acts of love and then confess. Ignore Minkyung, just go with your guts, Jae.”

“Hey! I just want the best for [Y/N].”

Jaehyun huffs, stretching out his back after being hunched over on the floor, groaning at the cracks it made, “I do, too, Kyung, you know that. I’ll try again tomorrow, thanks.”

After he hangs up and puts away the cleaning supplies, he scoops the sleeping puppy off the floor and lays it on his bed before he gets in beside it. He runs his thumb over the pup’s head, watching it slip back to sleep after making itself comfortable.

Although Jangmi’s suggestions were easier to do, he can’t help but agree with Minkyung; he can’t do this half-assed. Based on your journal entries, he’s really put you through difficult emotions that’s putting a gap between the two of you. He noticed how distant you’ve been or awkward with him the past weeks and he’s definitely sensed that you and Taeyong have been getting closer; even though you haven’t been on the date he got from the auction.

Was he jealous? Maybe. Just enough to fuel his desire of winning your affection back and be able to confess. He only hopes it isn’t too late.

>>the second attempt

#jaehyun scenarios #nct scenarios #14WTSYLTT #14Ways2

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brujeria-histeria · 5 years ago

Text

The Surprise

hacy fic for @theballetslippertheblackhoodie prompt: Harry finds out he’s going to be a father ......again.

Harry has had many bad days but this had to be one of the worst, maybe the the worst day of his second life. It had actually started last night though and the usually upbeat whitelighter didn’t let last night’s fumble try to ruin his day today, but oh no fate insisted his day be ruined.

First, last night his date with his Girlfriend, Macy was cancelled. She was running late from a science conference on the future of bioengineering and space and had grabbed something to eat at the conference center’s cafe. Then when she finally got home they at least tried to fit in some intimacy and Macy was too tired, again, to keep going, he let her fall asleep on his chest then slid out of bed and went to the bathroom for a cold shower.

Macy hadn’t been wanting to get intimate with him, sexually, for the past two weeks except once for one round of love making. When he gently asked her if everything was ok and if had done anything wrong she denied it and kissed him and told him how sweet he was. He was beginning to question if she wasn’t that into him anymore, if she only got with him on a whim and a year and 3 months into their relationship maybe her affection for him sizzled out. He shook his head under the cold water and tried not to let those thoughts intrude again. He’d do anything for Macy to be happy, but it hurt him to think it might mean to let her go if it would make her happy again.

Then today he had gone to work as usual, and was checking his twitter and was of course doing numbers with the academia side of twitter but spied a suspicious activity of tweets in his mentions. A faceless twitter troll had taken to attacking his person, calling him and women in general all sorts of unsavory names and slurs, while he blocked and reported the troll instead of engaging them, it made his blood boil when the troll especially said very tasteless and racist things about his Macy, when he tweeted an article done on her recently. You could insult him, but never insult women and never ever insult the woman he loves. He stormed to his office and set down his things with his research text making a slam. If his day couldn’t get any worse in walked in Professor Crollins, the head of the political science department to bother him. She was an older woman, in comparison to his physical 37 and her actual age of 53, and she apparently was very into Harry’s “vibe” as Maggie put it after she busted out laughing when he told her of the predicament. The situation of Crollin’s infatuation had began a few weeks ago when a benefactor and tenured professor of the school wanted both department heads to work together to form a joint class for next semester’s class options.

“Hello, Professor Greenwood. I came by to drop off another rubric for a possible project for next semester class. I can’t wait to teach it with you, I’m sure it’ll be an enriching experience for everyone involved.” she smiled.

Harry internally shuddered, it wasn’t well known outside his charges that he was in a committed relationship with the resident head of the science lab, Dr. Macy Vaughn. And even though it wasn’t public he had told Prof Crollins that he was not available to go out for drinks, ever, the last time she asked him to grab a drink with her.

“Actually Prof. Crollins I’m not going to be teaching that class, my TA Melanie Vera will be taking it. I offered her the position yesterday and the benefactor interviewed her.” He stated. Prof. Collins straightened and fixed him with a look.

“What is it with you and those Vera Girls, and the other one that’s their sister. You’re around them an awful lot, in fact don’t you live with them? I thought you had your own place?” she accused.

“Um, we’re family, of sorts.” he fidgeted. He tried to tone down his public appearances with the girls he could excuse Mel because of her work in the women’s studies department, but not with poor Maggie who got some weird looks when he escorted her around arm in arm to discuss demon and witch things. They started using the excuse that he was their “Uncle” of sorts from their dad’s side, except Macy who just would call him a close friend.

“Hmph, well if that’s how you want it.” she walked off in a huff, and Harry exhaled, now he was annoyed and upset by a twitter troll and a woman who couldn’t understand the word no.

After that his day was just full of little stupid things that just added on to his annoyance. His favorite tie got ruined when someone tripped into him with their Starbucks drink and even though he orbed home to change shirts the tie was completely stained. He got into a heated discussion with one of his headstrong students who he hated to refer to them as, but it was true, a pain in his arse. The student even annoyed Mel with how bold and one track minded they were. His lunch went poorly too as he couldn’t even leave his office because he was swamped with papers, his tea supply had ran out, which he cursed himself for not realizing it, and he’d forgotten his lunch. He had to eat some rubbish tasting crisp from the vending machine. Macy had barely texted him back all day. Now he was feeling really shitty....

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Macy was thinking of a way to tell Harry the big news, she was pregnant, and 6 weeks along. She had tested herself 2 or so weeks ago, and a test she did at the lab confirmed she was pregnant, with a baby, by Harry. She had been nervous for the past couple of weeks since finding out, unsure of how to tell Harry, but she decided to do it tonight in a casual way because she could feel Harry getting more upset with himself as the days passed, knowing Harry he probably was beating himself up about whatever he thought he did wrong, which he did nothing wrong.

The night their baby to be was conceived was a night Macy remembered and she knew exactly what day it was. Mother’s Day, she was sad as hell that day along with her sisters and after they all celebrated it together, in honor of Marisol(and Mama Roz) she sat in her room crying because while she braved it, it was a reminder that she didn’t really know her mother as well as her sisters. She released the pain that caused her to lose her mind to the Source 2 years ago but she still felt a human pain inside. Harry had found her and she had him take her surface pain away by replacing it with pleasure and comforted her with kisses and passion.

She actually had left work early and made her way out on a task of shopping at multiple stores. She picked up soft wool yarn & a guide on how to knit for beginners, color swatches, some premium tea(for Harry), a toddler’s sectioned plate(it was so cute she couldn’t resist snagging the last one), and a prenatal yoga book. She of course knew it was too early to be buying some things, she had hear fears about her own baby’s health but she decided to focus on positive things. Like her adding another member to the Vera-Vaughn-Greenwood family. She was so engrossed in shopping she didn’t noticed Harry had texted her a few times. When she made it back home, she texted Harry that she was off work a little early and she’d be at home if he wanted to see her. He texted back ‘Yes, Please.’

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Harry dragged himself to his feet when he was finally done with a pile of papers, and orbed himself to the Vera Manor.

“Macy?” he called out.

“I’m in the living room Harry, could you make some tea? I bought some premium stuff from that high end food shoppe today.” she called back.

“Sure, my love.” he sighed, he really wanted some tea to be honest. Harry walked to the kitchen and found a plate with children’s characters on it, from that Sesame Street show, he thought maybe at first it was a childhood plate of one of the girls, but it looked brand new, it had dividers in it, maybe they wanted it for meal prepping?

“Macy, why is there a plate in here with elmo on it, is this one of Maggie’s new meal prep things?” he asked confused.

“Its toddler’s plate silly, for toddlers to eat out of.” she replied.

Hm, whatever, he learned to stop questioning the girls quirky antics further long ago. He inhaled the fresh tea and it almost made his rubbish day disappear. Once he got into the living room to cuddle it would be better. He made his tea tray up, and grabbed some small bite sized cookies he found, pink and blue sugar cookies.

“Macy, I’ve been wanting to see you all day darling.” He gazed at her with love. “Erm, what are you doing?”

“Hm?” she looked up. Macy was currently sitting on the couch surrounded by a big pile of jumbo sized yellow and white wool yarn. “Oh I’m going to learn how to knit, and make a small blanket.” she answered. “Maybe some little shoes or a scarf afterwards.”

“Macy, a knitted pair of shoes aren’t practical unless your a baby, which those are more like socks. Socks are more practical.”

“I also got some color swatches, I wonder which one is a little more gender neutral, maybe this pastel mint green or pastel yellow?” she asked.

“Either one seems fine, dear.” he said preparing their tea.”What for?”

She hummed with a grin, and he sat down next to her and shot back up to see the rectangular object he just sat on. “What is this?”

“Oh I picked up a new book for exercise.”

“Oh” he responded, pouring a cup of tea for her before reading the title.

“Prenatal Yoga for First Time Mothers.” he read aloud. “I’ve heard it’s actually quite good for women in pregnancy to take up specialized Yoga, in fact I was discussing the other day-” Harry paused for a minute, blinked, and turned his head slowly to Macy who was stirring some sugar in her tea. “Macy dear.... why did you buy a book of yoga for pregnant women?”

Macy sipped her tea, and looked at him with mischief in her eyes.

The fatigue of not wanting sex, the toddler’s plate, the yarn and knitting baby shoes, the book, the color swatches in colors suitable for a baby... bloody hell the pink and blue cookies... she’d even had been touching her belly a lot lately.... was Macy? Could she be?

“Are you?” his eyes began to gleam with tears threatening to burst in pure joy.

“You’re going to be a Father, again, Harry Greenwood. I’m 6 weeks pregnant!” she said setting down her tea cup, to clasp his hands.

“You are pregnant... you’re pregnant. I’m going to be a Father...” he stood up and scooped Macy up twirling her around, away from the yarn as to not trip. “I’M GOING TO BE A FATHER! OH, Macy, my love, I love you.” He kissed her all over her face. She laughed, and some tears of joy streamed down her face as well. They laughed and kissed for what seemed like ages.

“You wanna go celebrate?” she nuzzled her nose to his and nodded upstairs. He responded by kissing her.

Perhaps this was the happiest he’s been in a long time. This was one of the best days of his life.

#hacy #this one is safe lol

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mildlincrs · 5 years ago

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hi, tumblr — it's been (way longer than) a minute, but i'm back from the chaotic journey that was junior year! and with that, i wanted to continue what i started with my advice for rising freshmen and rising sophomores; i’ll be writing a final post for rising seniors once i (theoretically) finish high school.

note: i'm currently attending high school in the united states, so there are certain points i mention that may not apply to you if you aren't also studying in the u.s., but i still hope that you get something out of this post!

note 2: this post is pretty long -- a lot longer than the previous advice posts -- and also pretty personal. i go in-depth on what junior year was like for me (spoiler: not great), and subsequently, i have plenty of advice to help avoid some of what i ended up experiencing.

my junior year experience

for reference, click [here] a list of my junior year classes (along with classes i’ve taken and plan to take). i took two ap courses, and the rest of my courses with the exception of band were honors courses.

to be blunt -- junior year was one of my worse years of high school, academically and mentally. sophomore year was definitely one of my lowest points, too, but junior year was really shitty in a lot of ways. i was busy working (trying to) nearly all the time, and i found myself constantly under stress, struggling to maintain my grades -- especially in my calculus and physics classes. at a certain point in the year, i subconsciously stopped caring, i think, to the point where i couldn’t focus at all when i was working, instead opting to do things that were considerably less productive. i’d study for up to five minutes at a time, only to stress myself out of studying and go to sleep -- yes, i stressed myself to sleep. other nights, i’d stay up doing absolutely nothing, in spite of the massive amounts of work and studying i still had left to do. i was close to failing my physics class, at one point, too, and physics was arguably the class i studied and worked the hardest for.

another reason that this year was pretty terrible for me was the fact that i was recovering from several injuries. in june of 2018, i injured my knees -- for reasons i’d prefer not to disclose -- and though they were healing over the summer, with marching band, the injuries were only exacerbated. if you want an idea of how bad they were, i struggled to simply walk short distances if i didn’t have any sort of support. marching band is basically dignified, faster walking, so you can imagine the kind of stress that i was under. because of this, i had to stop dancing and take a season of winter guard off -- two of my biggest emotional releases in life. without both of those things for over six months, i felt pretty directionless, and i ended up relapsing (i have chronic depression). that along with the business of junior year made life feel pretty damn miserable. physical therapy didn’t help me, i had virtually no time to schedule a meeting with a therapist or other mental health professional, and i was exhausted 24/7.

all this being said, junior year still had its good moments! i got to take two astronomy semester courses, both of which only reinforced my love for astronomy -- i’ll be doing astronomy-related research in the fall - i got to play some pretty damn good music in band, qualified and made all-state band for the first time, and i became closer with my best friends and got to make new ones. i completed a year-long research paper (while missing quite a few deadlines on the way) that turned into what’s probably the most vulnerable piece of writing i’ve ever produced (message me if you’re interested in reading it!), and i didn’t fail any of my classes. good stuff.

more on not failing my classes: 2nd semester was kind of weird for me, in that my grades went up in some classes, but slowly sort of decreased in others. for example -- i studied and worked my ass off trying to improve my calculus grade during 1st semester, but my exhaustion caused me to fall asleep during a lot of classes, meaning that i would always miss the material being taught, and by the time i got home that day, i was so exhausted that i would just fall asleep until the next morning, not even bothering to figure out what i had missed during class. with physics, worked harder than i ever had during 1st semester, but i continued to receive low scores on tests and heavily relied on my lab and quiz grades to keep me afloat. i cared less about japanese more and more, (which SUCKS because i really loved the class and language but my effort just went downhill) and i can distinctly remember not studying for several of the tests that were administered, and as such, receiving subpar scores. i did, however, pass all of my finals and ap exams, which was definitely a plus.

tldr: my work ethic went to shit, and i salvaged it somewhat, at the cost of losing a lot of sleep and not eating for multiple days at a time WHICH IS NOT HEALTHY. DON’T DO THIS PLEASE. junior year was worse than sophomore year in a lot of ways, but i fucking MADE IT so who’s the real winner here

advice for junior year

my number one piece of advice is to take care of yourself. you’ve probably heard it before, but that’s because you should do it. i’m 100% serious when i say that it can really make a difference. i mentioned that i lost a lot of sleep and didn’t eat sometimes during the school year, and because of that, i was super super sick at one point which only made my mental health worse, which only decreased my ability to focus and work properly. please stay healthy ahh like hydrate, get some mf sleep, and eat well! if you have to choose between studying for a test and sleeping at 3am, then go the fuck to sleep. and it’s not just about being healthy enough to do well in school! it’s literally your own wellbeing. put your physical and mental needs first, no matter what.

for ap courses: highly recommend looking on the collegeboard website for practice questions! the website also outlines the test structures, which i found helpful for me when i was studying for the exams. if you’re hoping to score a 4 or 5 on your ap exams, it’s in your best interests to go in prepared as possible. iirc the website also provides overviews of all the content that should be studied/is covered on the exam, which can help structure your studying, too!

another thing on ap courses: while if you score well enough on ap exams, you might be able to transfer those credits to your college courses (if you enroll at a u.s. college), i wouldn’t recommend loading your schedule with ap courses. they’re college-level courses for a reason; they will be fast-paced and involve a lot of work on your part. a rule that i used when deciding what ap courses i would take in high school: if i didn’t particularly like the subject, then i took the honors version of the course. otherwise, if i felt like i could challenge myself, was interested in the course, and if it was available, then i signed up for it. i knew from sophomore year that i wasn’t good at dealing with both school and my mental health, so i recognized that i’d need to lessen my ap coursework as much as possible so that i didn’t throw myself into an even worse situation (i took zero aps sophomore year).

don’t spread yourself too thin involving yourself in things in and out of school. sort of similar to my philosophy of not overloading my schedule, i made sure that i only committed myself to extracurriculars that i cared about and enjoyed doing. i personally marched my third season of marching band, and remained involved in my school’s urban dance club as much as possible (though when i took a break from dancing, that was definitely harder, but towards the end of the year, i was able to participate in a few performances with my friends). i also participated in an outside wind ensemble every week, and that was plenty for me -- i had a lot of music to practice both for that group and my school’s band, and then i had to balance THAT with practicing music for private lessons & auditions, and with schoolwork. i know there are people who are involved in so many extracurriculars, which i wouldn’t recommend. devote yourself to what you love in high school; that will also give you something worth writing about in things such as college applications! better to pursue what you love with passion and authenticity than to sign-up for a club for the clout even if you’re not remotely interested in it.

if it’s offered where you live, i would recommend taking the sat and/or act during your junior year. i’d also recommend taking subject tests if you have the time for it. the earlier you take these tests, the more likely you are to have an opportunity to retake them if you don’t score as well as you hope. you can also start taking these tests during sophomore year -- i took sat subject tests in june of my sophomore year, took the sat twice during junior year, and i will be taking the act in july. i’ll also be retaking an sat subject test and taking a completely new one.

while it may be daunting, start thinking about college -- whether you want to go to college or not, where or what you’d like to study, etc. since i plan on majoring in music, i started researching sort of early so that i could give myself enough time to finalize a list of the colleges i am applying to and the repertoire i need to learn and practice for auditions. but regardless of what you decide to do with your future, no one is expecting you to have every step of your life labeled out. things can change, and that’s okay! that’s literally how life works. definitely reach out to your counselors if you want advice from them! i’d also recommend sitting down with your parents and talking about the college application process with them and what they can do to help you.

there’s a lot of pressure during junior year -- it’s the last full year of high school before college applications, and typical for students to be busy 110% of the time. that said, find time for yourself to destress and do nothing school or work-related. if it helps, schedule specific times of the day where you just relax and do something that makes you happy. finding a work-life balance can really make a difference (i say, not having one, though i have many friends who talk about this to me).

if you need help with anything at all -- talk to someone about it! feeling super stressed and shitty? talk to someone you trust, whether they’re your closest friend or a teacher (which reminds me, if you plan on asking a teacher for a rec, take time to talk with them if you can, it makes a difference). you are not alone. i know for some people (especially for me, actually), it can be super difficult to open up about what you’re dealing with, but it’s arguably better than trying to push your way through it all on your own.

best of luck during your junior year -- i believe in you<3

love, fei

#mine #mmp #mp #studying #studyblr #high school #study #studyspo #advice #tbhstudying #studyquill #lookstudyblr #obsidianstudy #heysareena #focusign #study tips #school

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funfactory-moved · 6 years ago

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i lov a long story!

also congrats on freeing urself

klfjsd thank u ALRIGHT HERE WE GO (in case other ppl didn’t see: i quit my job today and was gonna talk abt why the whole thing sucked)

so for some background, i worked at bagel place in the union building on my campus and i worked every sunday from 7am to noon doing food prep (which is chopping vegetables and preparing things for the upcoming week), every thursday from 2pm to 6:30pm (closing shift), and every monday/wednesday form 6am-11am (an opening shift). so my hours were pretty consistently early which i knew would be hard for me but i was willing to try.

so my first two shifts were ok. i was tired for both of them and the monday shift was busy as hell but there were a sufficient amount of people around to help and people were helping me out with what to do. then wednesday comes around. i show up at 6am and absolutely no one shows up until i’ve been there for an hour. no one called or texted me to tell me i was going to be alone and no one gave me any sort of instruction for what to do despite it only being my second time working at 6am like that. i called and texted my boss so many times and she didn’t respond until hours after my shift had ended. not to mention when someone finally did show up, we were the only two people there until 9 because several other people who were supposed to work at that hour just didn’t show up without giving any notice and we had to call in people who technically didn’t even work with us because we were so understaffed and we couldn’t handle the breakfast rush.

so basically i had only been trained on one thing (taking orders) at this point and i had never made any of our bagel sandwiches before and suddenly i was expected to learn how to make all of them while on a time crunch because there’s so many people in line waiting for food and i have to try and do that while also taking orders because we didn’t have enough people so i had to take on multiple things. so it was my third day and i knew nothing and yet i was thrown into doing half of the tasks required to handle the breakfast rush.

and then my next sunday shift comes and my boss doesn’t show up yet again with no word. and this is the food prep shift and the first time me and the only other person who works that day had done it was the week before and my boss just gave us little tasks to do at the time and did a lot of the things for herself. so basically we’re left trying to guess what the fuck we need to do to prepare for week since the two of us only learned a portion of what needed to be done and my boss didn’t answer her phone and didn’t tell us she wasn’t going to be there and didn’t tell us anything.

and the next day was pretty similar to the first wednesday i mentioned where no one showed up and we were left rushing to get things done and while i was a little more familiar with how to do things, our breakfast rush was worse since it was a monday and i ended up accidentally burning and nicking myself multiple times because i was in such a rush to get things done that i was being careless with things that were hot/sharp. bc you know.. getting things done on time is more important than my physical safety. and then wednesday wasn’t as bad because the required amount of people actually showed up but ever since sunday, i had started getting so stressed and anxious about this job that the night before my shifts i wouldn’t be able to sleep and i would lie awake crying because i was so nervous about being left to do things on my own with hardly any idea of what i was supposed to do.

i should also mention that at this point, even though i had only been working there for slightly over a week, my parents and all of my friends were already telling me to reconsider employment there because i was so stressed and lacking so much sleep. during shifts, especially busy ones, i was having to work and try to hide the fact that i was on the verge of a panic attack because i needed to get so many things done.

so then we get to this sunday, and my boss doesn’t show up yet again with no fucking word about why and we’re told by someone that we “should know what we’re supposed to do” despite it being our third time working that type of shift, and the last time we had worked that shift we guessed on everything we needed to do.

and then today is when i finally cracked. i was going to wait until the end of the week to see how i felt, but today pushed me over the edge. i thought it was going to be a good day because someone actually showed up at the same time as me. but then the only other person besides him that showed up was a guy who was literally working there for the first time because someone who was supposed to show up didn’t show up without notifying anyone she was going to be gone. so it’s me, who barely knows what i’m doing because everything i’ve been doing is a wild guess and i’m still learning things, a completely new guy, and another guy who knows more.

so the guy who knows more is being a fucking asshole because he’s acting like he’s doing all the work since he’s more experienced than we are and he’s making it seem like he’s taking the majority of the workload when i was busting my ass trying to make sandwiches and i was being given so much and rushing so much that i kept dropping fully made sandwiches on the ground and would have to remake them. we also had implemented a new system where instead of taking orders on paper, we would take them on the register and the order would be printed out on the receipt. but orders kept getting lost so we would have customers sitting off to the side angrily wondering why their food isn’t ready when literally we don’t even have any record of the order.

we were in such a rush to complete things that the new guy sliced a bagel pretty badly to the point where it got stuck inside the toaster and literally fucking caught on fire. it wasn’t big enough to endanger anyone but it smoked up the kitchen and made it smell for the rest of the day. and then the worst part was when i was trying to get sauce out of a squeezy bottle but couldn’t get any out because there was a tomato chunk stuck in the nozzle. i was in a rush so i started squeezing it more forcefully, thinking that the bagel would just get covered in a large glob of sauce once the tomato got unstuck, but the sauce literally exploded.

i had sauce on my shirt, jeans, shoes, and face and it was in my hair and it splattered onto the bagels in the bagel case behind me and it got on the floor and on the screen of one of the registers behind me. and since i was so overwhelmed with the amount of orders i still had to do and how behind i was and how this was a rather prominent inconvenience, i wasn’t able to stop myself from sobbing in the middle of the kitchen in the view of all my coworkers and customers. and like.. the customers just looked super displeased because they had already been waiting ages and now they had to wait longer bc i couldn’t stop crying.thankfully my coworker let me go calm down in the back for a moment but i was still embarrassed and still covered in sauce with no change of clothes and still had 10+ orders to complete. i was so fed up after today that i decided i really need to quit my job.

so basically this job is managed unprofessionally. there was a lack of communication and proper training that often left me working by myself trying to figure out the things i needed to do and would often leave my coworkers needing to pick up what i missed because i was clueless. even when i was working with someone, i would have to stop my coworkers in their tasks every two second to ask what to do because i didn’t know and they were the only people i could ask. this job was also shitty because there was absolutely no backlash for people who didn’t show up to work without warning, meaning that people started doing it all the fucking time. it fucked over everyone else because we always had disastrous mornings with 2 people doing jobs meant for 6 people.

my anxiety was just through the roof with this job and i couldn’t sleep at night thinking about it. i quit because of the shitty managing and because the way it was managed was extremely damaging to my mental health, which was already faring pretty badly due to homesickness, school stress, and my depression just generally being worse lately.

sorry this was so long but fjklsdj i warned u it was a long story. if u read this then yeehaw

#also sorry it took me like 7 hours to answer this #i put in a read more link #so sorry to my mobile friends klsdjfsld #Anonymous

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dcuglybooks · 4 years ago

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A short story collection featuring stories that are either mean and ugly like that turd that thudded you in school, or sweet and cuddly as a little gloomy kitten; or puppy if you’re more of a dog person.

Stories Christians don't have to read backwards. https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08LGB4HGN/ref=cm_sw_r_cp_api_glc_fabc_UIpaGb2VC4BBX

Here’s a free short.

WAP: WEIRD ASS PHANTOM

“There’s a ghost in this house. There’s a ghost in this house.”

Linda was getting tired of the shit. Every day at exactly noon her alarm would play this shitty overdubbed version of a Cardi B song. The original song wasn’t her cup of tea to begin with, this new version that sounded like drunk karaoke was even worse. Most times she would be sitting there and the sound of a drunk sorority girl would make her jump out of her skin. She couldn’t even find the song or alarm in her phone to do anything about it.

Linda and her girlfriend, Melissa, moved into this old house last month, the rent was so damn cheap; landlord said it was because it used to be a party house so he never charged much. The logic didn’t make any sense but at $300 a month and a mile outside of town, how were they not going to sign that lease?

“I think,” spoke Melissa one night while watching her phone float around taking pictures in the air, “the reason rent is so cheap is because it’s haunted.”

“You think?” Replies Linda while snatching the phone out of the air. “I just wish this damn ghost would stop posting pictures of our bedroom to our Instagram accounts. Did you see the caption last night?”

“Oh you mean ‘Pumpkin spice is almost here. Basic bitches, rejoice!’ The comma is what set me off. Why did she put a comma in that? Why bother? It wasn’t even used correctly I don’t believe.”

“We’re being haunted by a basic bitch.”

“I think that may be offensive.”

“I hear it all the time, it just...... yeah ok maybe. I guess I shouldn’t assume this ghost is a bad stereotype, I won’t say it again.”

“True, this girl may have more going for her than just these annoying social media posts from our accounts”

“Remember the mirror though?”

Last week as the couple were eating dinner they heard a clatter and crash from the upstairs bathroom. Running full speed ahead up the stairs and around the corner Linda saw all their makeup in a pile in the empty sink. She could see a pair of red lipsticked lips floating in the air while eyeliner was seemingly drawn onto the air in a cat eye shape. She sighed and said “What now?” These types of things had been going on since the first night so at this point it was old hat.

The lipstick went to the mirror and wrote “I am finally going to kill you.” Linda took a step back prepared to flee until the lipstick wrote below it “JK LOL YOUR FACE” and then the face floated off into the wall leaving behind the makeup like some sort of painting.

The first time anything strange had happened, a pizza showed up at the front door; delivery for an Amanda Perkins. The girl who moved out recently, they took the pizza because it was already paid for and assumed the girl had made a mistake. They were sure of this as they sat and watched old re-runs of home improvement and munched away; then they noticed the slice floating over in the air above the recliner and the chewed up pile on the seat. They screamed and ran outside, Melissa forgot her phone inside and Linda’s made a ding from inside her pocket.

“Hey I know this is really weird, it’s weird AF for me too. We can make it work though, ladies. I swear I won’t bother you, I already cleaned up my mess.”

They inched inside looking around like scared toddlers and sure enough the mess was cleaned up. After that they just rolled with the weirdness.

“Are you sure Amanda left, Mr. Morris?” Linda was on the phone with the landlord.

“Yes. Positive. Why would you think she still lived there?”

“There’s been..... some things.”

“Drunk college girl, she probably stumbled home one night and forgot she went home for the summer. Its no deal. Not big or small.”

“Are you absolutely positive there is no deal? Big, small, medium, or slightly larger than medium but not quite large?”

“What do you think? I know her ex and he killed her and then buried her body in the basement so now her ghost is haunting you. This is why I charge so cheap rent! No. I don’t believe what you think. I will be going.”

He hung up without ever realizing Linda never once mentioned any of that other stuff. Linda thought, Why does he talk like that?

Turned out that’s exactly what had happened. After doing a quick google of the ghosts name they found out she never came home. After a quick Facebook search they found her ex boyfriends page. After some scrolling they found a post that said “Amanda and I broke up again and I am going to kill her.” The post had six likes and four comments.

“Get her bro!”

“Bitch ain’t appreciate you anyhow bet!”

“U need any ting lemme no”

“Fuk gr8 ass tho. Mind if I hit her up?”

These people were insane. Did not a single one of these people see the part about wanting to kill her? Actually PLANNING to kill her.

The police found it interesting enough to look into it, they found reason to arrest the guy. After a long court trial Amanda’s ex-boyfriend, Brent, was sentenced to life in prison for murder. The body was exhumed and buried at a family plot. The rent got more expensive because Mr. Morris was in prison for helping cover a murder so his aunt took over.

You win some you lose some.

Amanda did not leave though. The ghost hung out still to this day four months later. The social media posts kept going. The pizzas kept getting ordered, only now from their pockets because Amanda’s parents closed her bank account. Amanda was irritated about that, she was cut off from her parents money and stuck living with two other people.

Linda and Melissa tried to make her feel as comfy as possible, they left a pen and notebook in each room so she could communicate with them. Usually the notes were always about how bored she was being a ghost and how if she tried to leave the house it got all bright and she started floating. Amanda was “for real afraid of flying” as she wrote on a notebook.

Amanda’s behavior got strange at some point. She began doing things like drawing stick figures on the bathroom floor in shampoo, she would wrap herself in toilet paper and roll down the stairs creating the illusion of her body disappearing, the worst of it was when she would lay in bed with Linda and Melissa startling them when she pulled the blanket. It was like living with an invisible insane person. Either her mind was slipping or she was just a strange character. She would turn the TV on and watch the same episode of “King of Queens” for ten hours straight while they were at work. They wondered what would happen if they deleted it from the DVR but didn’t want to face that at all.

The alarm kept going off too; Linda had to hand out awkward smiles and apologies when it happened at work or in public. One time she had to apologize to a middle aged woman when it went off in the cereal aisle while shopping and her son started singing the lyrics to the original version as loud as his voice would allow. The mother gasped at all the words her kid knew and knocked a shelf of maple syrup over. The bottles burst all over the floor, Linda tried to help clean it up but she was shooed away by a guy with a mop bucket and a face that said he wanted her dead as shit.

They asked her multiple times what they could do to get her to move along, to which she would always write “sno-cone” on her notebook with no explanation.

Linda woke up sick on a Tuesday and didn’t go to work, she came into the bathroom and seen a note written in lipstick on the mirror that read “Baby, all my life I will be driving home to you.” She blushed, Melissa had left her a really sweet note on the mirror. When Melissa got home she surprised her with a bout of some of the best sex they had ever had, despite Linda being sick she felt overcome with love for her partner.

“Wow. What did I do to deserve that?” Asked Melissa after.

“The note.”

“Oh yes. The note, got you good with that one. So, if it was so good mind telling me what it said?”

“You know what it said!”

“Of course I do.”

She didn’t know what it said. She had no clue, but she wasn’t going to raise a stink about what just happened. No way, no how. She got up and went to use the restroom, as she sat on the toilet she looked up and saw the words on the mirror.

“LINDA!” She yelled. “I DIDNT LEAVE THAT! THATS THE GODDAMN LYRICS FROM THE THEME SONG FOR ‘THE KING OF QUEENS!’”

Linda didn’t know what to say; she shook her head and internally accepted defeat on this one. The couple didn’t talk about it again, the ends justified the means on this one they silently agreed; thanks Amanda.

The trio had carried on life like this for months, seven to be exact, when they heard a bang and a crash from the front door. Assuming this was yet again Amanda doing some goofy nonsense they ran downstairs to clean up the mess only to find a man standing their pointing a shotgun at them.

“You’re the dykes who got me locked up, aintcha?” Said a freshly broke out of prison Brent. “You know, usually I’m cool with like loving whoever and like rights and like equality and shit but tonight is not your night. Go sit.”

They were tied together on the couch while Brent sat channel flipping on the TV.

“Amanda is still here,” spoke Linda “she’s a ghost, at some point she’s going to help us and you’ll probably get hurt. She’s probably posting pictures on Instagram right now so she’s a little busy, but I promise when she finds out she’ll come running.”

“No she won’t.”

“Ok? So you think her post is going to get a ton of likes then?”

“She’s afraid of me.”

“Ugh are you generic ‘I beat my girlfriend’ guy number seventy or not?”

“Not.”

“Then why is she afraid of you?”

“I’m bigger than her…… I guess?”

“She’s a ghost.”

“I’m still bigger.”

“How can you be bigger than an incorporeal being with no mass or weight?”

“See, she doesn’t way anything.”

“You didn’t think any of this through did you?”

“Not one bit.”

“It shows. Why did you kill her?”

“Hey I’ve never been what you’d call a planner. I killed her because she broke up with me for the fiftieth time that year and all my friends were giving me a hard time about how I would just crawl back to her. I said ‘can’t crawl back to her if I kill her!’ They all thought it was funny so I did it.”

“Ah………Makes perfect sense to me.”

“A guy has to watch his reputation, right?”

They sat there watching late night infomercials in silence for another half hour. Linda nudged Melissa as she seen a phone floating around taking pictures of a floating can of soup.

Of all the ghosts in the world, why was theirs like this?

“Brent, there’s some stuff on the DVR” Linda told him.

“Good I hate infomercials. Oh yuck, ‘The King of Queens.’ I hate that show, Amanda loved it. That fat fucking heifer guy gets to make it with that babe every night. Fucking loser ass UPS guy”

They could see the phone slowly lower and start hovering towards Brent. They let him rant.

“And that Deacon guy, what a fucking idiot, he leaves his wife at one point which is silly because she’s so fucking hot.”

The can of soup hovered behind him.

“That guy that dates the ugly chick from the bowling alley, now I can’t tolerate him at all.”

The soup can shook with rage.

“He ends up living with the other guy right? Like what the fuck? Are they like a thing or not a thing? I didn’t pay enough attention. I did pretend to though to get some action every now and again, show fucking sucks though. Here I’ll do you guys a favor.”

As he deleted the episode from the DVR the can came slamming down into his head.

Again.

They heard a voice yell “MY BONES ARE GETTING WEARY! MY BACK IS GETTING TIGHT!” As the can of cream of chicken turned Brent’s head into cream of Brent’s brains.

After the violence stopped the notebook hovered in front of them and said “Sorry, I was on TikTok, I’ll clean this up tho.”

Much like the first night that’s exactly what happened. They were untied and they watched as the mess was cleaned up. Brent’s body floated over to the ground and the can of soup was laid on the table. The phone floated over to Melissa who dialed 911.

After the legal mess was cleaned up they decided that having Amanda around maybe was not such a bad idea. No one could really kill them, it was like having a built in security system. They did eventually add a third line to their cell plan and let her set up social media for herself as a reclusive twenty something who couldn’t leave the house due to a skin condition.

Her pages were ok, they didn’t get much interaction or followers but Amanda was happy. Sometimes people would say they wanted to hang out with her because they lived close, Amanda just said her skin condition was contagious AF. No one ever thought to say “Hey, what exactly IS your medical condition?” People could be so polite sometimes.

Christmas morning as they all opened gifts Linda and Melissa cried as Amanda opened the complete series collection of “The King of Queens.” The three sat on the couch together that evening and watched all of season one.

Baby all my life I will be driving home to you.

The next day they heard a familiar song. Together they both smiled and thought that yes, there was a ghost in this house.

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